Elaine learned very quickly that Halloween prep was less about creativity and more about survival.
Specifically: surviving fabric scraps, makeup palettes that multiplied every time she wasn't looking, and Eleanore's uncanny ability to spread chaos without ever appearing stressed about it.
Their living room looked like a costume shop had exploded. Fabris was draped over the couch. A half-assembled mask stared at them from the coffee table. Somewhere under a pile of gloves was Elaine's phone, buzzing.
Eleanore sat cross-legged on the floor, sewing with alarming confidence.
"I'm telling you," she said, not looking up, "if this seam splits, it's because you doubted it."
"I didn't doubt it," Elaine replied, crouched beside her and untangling ribbons. "I respected it from a safe distance."
Elaine paused, staring at a sleeve before holding it up. "Why is this so long?"
"Drama," Eleanore said simply.
Elaine sighed. "I walked into that."
