The kids can have the costumes. You and your friends are too busy working towards sugar-induced commas on the couch for a scary movie night.
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Not that bad
Going shopping for the annual ugly sweater party that someone always manages to throw.
Walking into the club with your girls, there’s a silent agreement among you that on the way to the bar you’re all going to slay. You can’t simply walk in a color this fierce. You have to strut.
The grass conforms to your bodies like memory foam. Hand in hand you lie together staring at the moon sharing your hopes and dreams.
The faint sound of carolers in the distances as you and a loved take an evening stroll through the park.
10 PM. That was pretty late for a five year old. But there you were, every year, with all your siblings fighting a loosing battle against sleep. All so you could catch a glimpse of the man himself.