𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟏𝟎𝟏 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐕

• 24 •

I was in second year college the last time I went Trick or Treating. It was about two weeks before Ralph and I first fucked as friends because of boredom, probably. The sex was convenient since the man lived right next to me. Casual consensual sex required only a few steps and a knock on either one's door.

Although I can't recall all happenings on that Halloween because I got wasted enough to puke my guts and bones out the next day, I do remember one very embarrassing memory that I wish had faded with the others: Gianna Alexie, dressed as a mad scientist with a skimpy lab coat, gray highlights, gloves, and a beaker for a candy bucket, stripped her panties off and flung it across the room, vowing that she'll flirt with whoever it lands on.

It landed on a freshman in a gladiator costume—abs out and all. He looked like walking steroids and protein shakes. I can't remember his name, but I remember that we kissed sometime past midnight. Embarrassing. My cheeks burn every time I remember fragments of that party whose host is still unknown to me. I am a changed woman now. I think. One thing's for sure: I'll never pull a stunt like that again. It was immoral. It was immature. It was inconsiderate. It was inappropriate, it was disturbing, and I was under the influence of tequila shots and bad company.

The white fit I wore those years ago felt like brand new in my hands. If you grew up raised by Lauren Alexie, you'd know how to properly pack your belongings and store them in a way that not the tiniest bit of dust will get onto the material itself. I held it in front of me, imagining the short dress on my body through the bathroom mirror. I gained weight. I didn't gain too much, but I gained weight. I hope it'll fit as good as before I neglected my physique.

Which reminds me that I should've dug for the costume this morning. If it won't fit me now, then I'll have nothing else to wear. It's not like I meant to be sidetracked by all the other interesting things I found in my storage boxes. Somehow, staring at albums and remembrances from my college days took up more time of my afternoon than I expected.

My makeup is done. I do a full face once in a blue moon. I would've tested my makeup skills and added a twist to my look, but I did not have much makeup and tools to begin with. For starters, I only have two shades of foundation and one eyeshadow palette amongst other essentials in numbers of one or two. Not much variation. I went with a look that I'm comfortable with. Yes, brown eyeshadow—the easiest to nail.

I snagged some gray-colored hair spray from Ralph. He used it last year. Miraculously, it didn't dry out. I took some locks and sprayed them gray, pissing myself off when I accidentally put some on my face.

I stripped out of my lounge wear and put on the lab-coat-style-dress. As I zipped myself up and buttoned the buttons, I prayed that it would fit good. The candy I'd receive would guilt me with sugar if I walk around with a dress threatening to pop. With my effort at its limit, I observed myself in the mirror. I look... nice. Nice for an occasion which requires dressing up neither formal nor casual.

What's Halloween without a scare? I flinched when the door swung open and Ralph came storming in.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered, glaring at the evil cowboy who looks like he has a gunfight at nine and a strip show at ten.

"You didn't lock the door," he mumbled, stopping beside me and starting at himself in the same mirror. Ralph is one of those people who pour a heavy amount of effort on costumes. He wears a different one each year. My friend's outfit tonight comprises of pants, boots, a thick vest, a scarf, and a cowboy hat; all in the shade of black. Under the vest is none other but tan skin covering a chest and his prized abs.