“Here you go, little man.” Quinton reaches into the cauldron and when he pulls out the giant candy bar, the little boy’s eyes get so round, I’m worried they might pop out of his little head.

Quinton drops it into his basket and it barely makes it in before the dinosaur is sprinting down to the sidewalk, where the man I’m assuming is his dad and not a random creep is recording it all with his phone.

“My gotta a BIG one!” he yells, ignoring his mom chasing after him shouting, “Don’t forget to say thank you!” When it’s clear there’s no way her son is going to do anything except try to eat the candy bar on the sidewalk, the mom turns and waves. “Thank you!”

Quinton waves back before he closes the door and turns to me. “Fuck,” he says, his smile even bigger than it was when he opened the door. “I get it now. This is great!”

I wish I was the kind of person who could refrain from saying “I told you so,” but I am not.

“Told you so.” I head back to his pantry to grab more candy while he looks out of the window next to the door, waiting for the next trick-or-treater.

I know he did this all for me—the thought still makes my stomach flip—but seeing how into it he is almost makes this feel like an equal partnership.

And even though Halloween will never be the same, Quinton has made it so the ache in my chest and the urge to cry are long gone. Just like the little dinosaur’s candy bar.

Twenty-seven

“I can’t believe how many trick-or-treaters you had.” I peel open a Reese’s cup and lean back on his stupid comfy couch.

I don’t know why, but because his neighborhood is so fancy, I thought he wouldn’t get many coming through. But I forgot that people drive to the fancy neighborhoods in hopes to find a house like Quinton’s and get good candy. He almost ran out!

This could also be because once the kids realized who Quinton was, they came back like three or four times, until they worked up the nerve to ask for his autograph. And because Quinton was as into Halloween as they were, he gave them candy every single time.

I’m pretty sure that even the kids were calling him the king of Halloween by the end of the night too.

“I know.” He grabs the remote before settling next to me on the couch. “I thought I was going overboard with the candy, but I’m glad I did.”

He still has candy left over, but it was getting close. Thankfully, lights-off time came before he was cleaned out . . . and I still had my choice of candy.

“What movie do you want to watch?” I ask as he starts scrolling on his fancy smart TV.