“Oh, my God, Trix, you’ve been at this for over an hour! Just pick one, already!” I admonish, my tone mirroring my exasperation.
My hands and feet drum and tap at whatever surfaces they can find, more fidgety than I can remember them ever being.
We’re surrounded by a myriad of costumes, practically swimming in piles and piles of various outfits, accessories, and cosplay attire. There are all types of costumes—from various Marvel and DC superheroes, to milkmaids and leprechauns, to Disney characters, all the way to generic ones like cop and sailor outfits.
The place is literally littered with them. Some are hanging off racks and flimsy hangers, while others are still displayed in their rectangular packages—quite a few of which are halfway ripped from their plastic casings.
It’s officially Halloween.
I really don’t care for the day. Actually, I take that back. It’s too much of an understatement. The truth is I absolutely loath Halloween.