“Those were excessive.”
“What?”
“They were excessive.”
She placed both hands on the table and pushed the bowl back toward its original position.
“This neighborhood has standards.”
The little boy did not understand.
The woman noticed his confusion and became even more irritated.
“One house cannot turn Halloween into some ridiculous competition.”
The little girl spoke softly.
“It’s candy.”
The woman stared at her.
The little girl stepped behind her brother.
The woman continued.
“Some families are handing out normal treats.”
“Then one homeowner decides he needs to give everyone full-size candy bars.”
“What do you think that does?”
Nobody answered.
She answered herself.
“It makes every other house look cheap.”
The little boy frowned.
“My mom gives little ones.”
“Exactly.”
The woman pointed toward him as though he had proven her argument.
“And how do you think your mother feels when children tell everyone this house is better?”
The boy shrugged.
“She doesn't care.”
The woman blinked.
That answer seemed to annoy her most.
The front porch camera above the door quietly recorded everything.
The woman did not notice.
Or perhaps she had noticed and believed nobody was watching.
Inside the house, however, the homeowner was standing in the kitchen looking at his phone.
He had been helping his eight-year-old daughter attach fake spider legs to a black cardboard box when his security application vibrated.
PERSON DETECTED AT FRONT PORCH.
He glanced at the live feed.
At first he assumed children were taking candy.
That was expected.
Then he saw the woman in pink.
He recognized her immediately.
The HOA President.
He watched her reach into his candy bowl.
Then put candy inside her purse.
For several seconds, he did not move.
His daughter noticed.
“What?”
He turned the phone toward himself.
“Stay inside.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
That was not true.
She knew it immediately.
“Dad.”
“Stay here.”
He walked toward the front hall.
The camera continued recording.
Outside, the HOA President finished rearranging the candy.
Then she noticed something beneath the bowl.
A handwritten sign.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN! PLEASE TAKE TWO.
Below it:
FULL-SIZE TREATS FOR EVERYONE UNTIL THEY’RE GONE!
The woman removed the sign.
She tore it in half.
The little boy gasped.
“That belongs to him.”
The HOA President folded the pieces.
Dropped them into the trash bag beside the table.
The little boy’s face changed.
That was the moment fear began becoming anger.
He had been raised not to talk back to adults.
But some part of him understood that adults could also be wrong.
“You can't do that.”
The woman looked at him.
“Go to the next house.”
“No.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“What did you say?”
The boy swallowed.
His younger sister grabbed the back of his costume.
He repeated:
“No.”
The woman stepped closer.
“Young man, I suggest you move along.”
The boy looked toward the door.
Then toward the candy.
“This isn't your house.”
The woman’s face reddened.
“I am President of the Willow Creek Homeowners Association.”
The boy shrugged.
“So?”
She stared.
The little girl whispered:
“What’s that?”
Her brother answered without looking away from the woman.
“I don't know.”