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     The doorbell rang.  Jonathan rushed over and opened the door.  Dave and Vic stood with their children.  The men wore polyester suits and photocopies expressions.  Dave's son wore a store bought Spider-Man costume with the cheap mask--already cracked at the chin.  Vic's daughter wore a store bought skeleton costume.  Brandon looked at them, then at his own son in vampire garb.  The get up included a ruffled white shirt, dark vest and pants, slicked back hair with an exaggerated widow's peak, plastic fangs and the flowing black cape with red interior lining.  Theresa had spent an hour getting the make-up just right.

     "Ready to go?" Vic asked.

     Brandon nodded, handing Jonathan a large pillow case to catch his treats.  "Back in awhile," Brandon called to his wife.

     Her reply followed him out the door:  "I might not be here when you come home."

     The sun had pulled its disappearing act, leaving the town in the care of the shadows and the rising half-moon.  Brandon watched groups of children moving down the sidewalks, going house to house on their annual candy quest.

     He wished he could sit down with Theresa and work through their problems.  They never seemed to talk anymore; they just kept drifting further apart.  Damn her.  So what if she'd been offered that job in Denver.  So what if it was good money.  He didn't want to move again so soon.  Or maybe it was deeper than that.  Maybe he didn't want to admit that if they moved to a big city, she'd make more money than he would.  No, he wasn't that closed-minded; he simply didn't want to move.  He had a good job, right?  God, he didn't want to think about it.

     Instead he tried to focus on the here and now.  He felt out of place in his jeans and sweat shirt walking next to Dave and Vic.  He wondered what Jonathan thought about his new friends.

     "They're boring," Jonathan had said after Brandon had first made him play with the other kids.

     "Just play with them, Jonathan.  Teach them to play space war or cops and robbers."

     "They're dumb.  They're empty."

     But Jonathan finally relented and began to play with them.  He even stopped complaining about them.  Now if only Brandon could get Theresa to get along with his coworkers' wives.  Why did it always come back to Theresa?  Why couldn't she just give in?

     "Don't go up there," Vic said to the kids, then turned to Brandon.  "That's old man Kaiser's place.  He's one of those bleeding heart liberals.  Some of the things that man believes would shock a God fearing man."

     Brandon nodded.  He figured he probably had more in common with Mr. Kaiser than the polyester clones he was trying to get along with.  "No doubt," he said.  It bothered him to agree.  It was a lie and it nibbled at his gut.  Each lie--each compromise--sacrificed a bit more of himself.  At least that's how it felt.

     The kids ran up to the next house.  The adults waited at the edge of the driveway.  Dave fished out a pack of cigarettes, shook a few out and offered them to Vic and Brandon.  Vic tugged a cigarette out and stuck it in his mouth.

     "Take one," Dave said, looking at Brandon.  The streetlight shined into Dave's eyes and Brandon thought he could look right into him.  Like the old saying about the eyes being a window to the soul.  Only, there didn't seem to be anything there.

     "I don't smoke," Brandon said.

     Dave shrugged, tilting his head.  The light glared off the inside of his skull.  Brandon's heart stumbled, but now Dave's eyes seemed normal.  Just a trick of the light.  He grabbed for the cigarette.

     "Thought you said you didn't smoke," Vic said.

     "Oh ... you know, just now and then."  He let Vic light the cigarette, then drew in a lung full of smoke.  He choked and coughed.

     "Are you all right?" Dave asked.

     Brandon nodded and flicked the cigarette into the gutter.  He coughed a few more times.  "I'll live."

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