"I don't care if it's freezing, I want to walk through the park!"
Carol tugged at Daryl's hand and pulled him toward the park. There was already a mass of people going in and out of the area. There were adults in costumes, rocking back and forth on legs that proved their sobriety was limited. There were children running and screaming and waving plastic buckets and glowing green glowsticks.
Daryl groaned.
"Do we have to?" He asked.
"They put out the pumpkins!" Carol insisted.
The Jack-O-Lanterns were a town tradition. Local businesses decorated them and donated them to the park for their Halloween decorations. Different groups signed up to hang lights and banners and to create scarecrows and place hay bales.
It was a Sweet Junction tradition.
Carol tugged at Daryl's hand. He was freezing. It was a colder than usual Halloween. Her hand was like ice in his. But his feet were already headed toward the park because he couldn't say no to her. He never could. She knew that, too, but he could confidently say that she didn't really take advantage of that knowledge—or her power over him. If she wanted to see the pumpkins, he was going to have to brave the cold and the crowd to see the pumpkins.
And, if he was lucky, she'd make it worth his while when they got home, anyway.
"Here," he said, shucking off his outermost layer and putting it over her shoulders before she could attempt to protest. "At least take my jacket. I don't want'cha freezin' to death."
