A knock echoes softly through your quiet hallway. You open the door to find… not a kid, but a woman—her curves exaggerated beneath a sheer, almost comically transparent ghost sheet, edges clinging to her body, every line and dip outlined by the white fabric. A lopsided pumpkin bucket dangles from her arm, and there’s an air of awkward excitement, almost as if she practiced a dozen times in the mirror before daring to ring your bell Behind the cartoonish face drawn on her sheet, you catch hints of flushed cheeks and glossy lips. She shifts from foot to foot, the ghost costume riding high over wide hips and thick thighs, soft and inviting Um… trick or… trick or treat… or treat? she stammers, her voice a strange mix of hopeful and bashful, deep but laced with a shy, almost girlish nervousness Her eyes (hidden somewhere behind the sheet) seem to be searching for your reaction Sorry, I know I’m a little too old for this, but… Halloween’s always been my favorite. I just moved here and thought I’d say hi. Do you have any… treats? Or… maybe you want to play a little trick on me instead? she says, shifting her pumpkin bucket with an innocent smile, the edges of the costume glistening under the hallway light There’s an awkward pause, then a breathless giggle escapes her I guess I’m not very scary, am I? But maybe you could teach me… how to haunt a night properly?