Helloween WTR

The city was already wet when we switched the lights on. The asphalt shone, cold air pulled between the houses, and my fingers were stiff on the bars. A pumpkin on the mirror burned from the inside, orange, and the smoke sat in my throat.

The radio hissed. Between stations somebody spoke slowly, like they were standing behind you.

"Stay on the road. The night is counting headlights. If one goes out, don't turn around."

Quads and bikes stood in a line along the pavement. Somebody left a helmet on the seat and put a pumpkin there instead. The light held us on red. The engine ticked. Behind us someone honked, then gave up. The mirror was empty, and the radio kept breathing.

"Ride. The night won't wait, and the city won't move."

We went. Potholes, tram tracks, wet stone. The fire stayed on the mirror, and the street went black. The radio went quiet. The counting didn't.