62

Another set of high-pitched screams emanate from the apartment hallway.

I roll my eyes and shake my head before heading to the front door and poking my head through it.

"Travis," I say in exasperation.

"That?" he asks innocently.

"Haven't you had enough?"

"But they like it!"

The terrified look in the children's eyes when they look over their shoulders and run away from us (or should I say Travis) They say otherwise, but what can I do? Its Halloween. Kids don't want to be scared and it's not like Travis stops them from taking the candy before he scares them. The huge orange plastic bowl with printed bats flying around its rim is surprisingly nearly empty, meaning either our candy is better than the neighbors' or he's been very, very generous in delivering the treats. Seeing as things rarely happen for a single reason, I guess it's a bit of both.

"Okay, but once the bowl is empty, that's it, okay?"

Travis gives me a happy