October woke on the cold stone of Mrs. Johnson’s grave and began shivering immediately. She stood and caught herself on a stone too weathered to be legible.
“Oh Mrs. Johnson, why didn’t you wake me?” She wrapped her jacket around herself more tightly and began to stride, a bit wobbly, toward the paved road. It was also apparent that she was not the only one who had spent All Hallow’s Eve in the cemetery. She was the only one to sleep over with the dead. Silly string and shaving cream were hard to navigate, but preventative measures had apparently kept the eggs from desecrating too many graves. It was a gray morning, but October was not able to tell how late in the morning it was. Whether she had just beat the sun up, or was late for third period was completely unknown to her.
