The maples have shed their leaves. Bright yellow windfall clumps on pavement and lawns, a defiant contrast to the gloom of the afternoon sky. As I walk from the bus stop down the street, a cold, light rain begins to fall. I pull my coat closer to my body.
His apartment building, which is part of what used to be a large, sprawling house before it was divided into separate apartments, is at the end of the street. Some of the other people in it have turned on their entrance lights, the way many of the houses on this street have, for the trick-or-treaters. He isn’t passing out candy this year. His paycheck didn’t stretch far enough to allow for both candy and rent. Maybe after tonight, when the candy goes on clearance, it will be another story. We do both like chocolate.
I reach the apartm
