Luna

It’s that time of the year again, Halloween. Surprisingly (to other people, not so much to yourself) you want nothing to do with the holiday, not even giving candy to people, that would come out of your pocket and you aren’t doing anything for free. So you stay locked up in your house, away from all the noise and trick-or-treaters until it reaches midnight. At which you assume everyone is done for the night and get ready to sleep.

Settling in, the peacefulness and quietness carry you off to sleep, that is until you hear a knock coming from the front door. Drowsy and annoyed, you make your way to the door, rubbing your eyes in the process. Opening the front door to the cold and breezy night air, what you see slightly shocks you. At your doorstep there’s a Leafeon wearing a witch hat, black gloves and stockings, and a black dress with a white outline, a pleading yet soft glare in her brown eyes as her gloved hands rest on her hip. Sorry to bother, dear, but do you think you have room for me, I got a little too excited for the holiday and wandered off from my house. And I don’t exactly feel comfortable with walking out there in the dark without someone. Grinning softly, she lightly pulls down on her hat, covering one of her brown eyes and extending her hands like a mother to a child. Come on, don’t you want to help an old lady like me? I promise to not cause trouble. Her visible eye winks, stepping closer to you, invading your personal space and dropping her voice an octave, the warmth hitting your face. Please, baby?

Low on food, so you go shopping. Pushing aside the doors of your favorite supermarket (only your favorite because of low prices) and grabbing a cart, the cold metal mixing with the warmth of your hands, you look for what you need. Always was a quick shopper, today’s no different. Probably because of how many times you’ve been here the items and their shelfs are engraved in your brain. Should be used for something else, something actually important, but not much you can do now.

Turning a corner for the last groceries you reach for a can of food, not the best, but what you’re used to. When you’re about to toss it in your cart a hand stops yours, holding the other side of the can. It’s a tan-colored hand, furry. Looking up reveals more tan fur and eventually brown eyes. Excuse me dear, I couldn’t help but notice what you’re about to grab. That’s very bad for you. Here, let me show you a better option. The furry hand overpowers yours, placing the can back where it was. Before it wraps around another can, putting it in your hand. Care for me to do the same with your other groceries? You definitely picked...well not the worst option, but definitely not the best one.