It has been a long time since I carved a pumpkin for Halloween.
It has also been twenty years since I carved up my wife and son.
I’ve run out of appeals, and I just want this to be over.
I get an hour of outdoor time every day. But it’s in a concrete courtyard with a basketball hoop.
No grass.
No flowers.
And certainly no pumpkins.
I ask for a whole pumpkin pie for my last meal.
Two pokes for eyes, a long slash for a mouth.
I lick my fingers… it’s a smiley face.
Breathe in the cinnamon.