Jack this lantern
The pumpkin swallowed the rhythm. Milo’s chest went silent, yet he soared, ribcage now a lantern of violet auroras. He looped the neighborhood upside-down, trailing comet-dust giggles.
Down on the porch, the jack-o’-lantern pulsed—thump-thump, thump-thump—learning what it meant to be alive.
It rolled off the step, grinning, and began to hunt for a second beat.
MeHoff
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