I sit on the front steps with my old friend after lunch as fall, having finally gotten its shit together, blesses the afternoon with clear blue skies and a crisp breeze.
“Bubble gum?” I ask, incredulous, but he shakes his head sadly.
“No bubble gum,” he replies, and then, “All the candy seemed the same, like everybody got the same bags of regular candy from the same stores, none of the weird stuff we used to get.”
“Loose candy corn, just thrown in the bag,” he adds, almost wistfully.
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