7 lines · 93 words · 0:30 read aloud
The Last Trick-or-Treater
Every Halloween, the last trick-or-treater knocks at exactly eleven o'clock.
The first year, I thought it was a kid who lost track of time.
Small costume, white sheet, holding out an old cloth bag.
I dropped in a chocolate bar. It said thank you in a very old voice.
The next year it came back, same sheet, same bag, same time.
This year I looked inside the bag. It was full of chocolate bars from decades of Halloweens.
The oldest wrapper was from a brand that stopped making chocolate before I was born.



