This is my 17th Halloween season in my current hometown. I find myself thinking about the first one, when my older brother lived in a picturesque Victorian house on my very favorite street. He and his wife threw a party that Halloween; a delightful party full of lovely, eccentric people and the particular breed of magic that only my brother and sister-in-law can create.
During that party, I bobbed for apples, drank too much wine, and had my palm read by a Romanian woman who told me I’d die by the time I was thirty.
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