Sitting down by the front door, she covers the floor with an elaborate, colourful pattern.
Faint echoes of “trick or treat” fill the air as she finishes off with the final touch - a flickering diya in the middle. Her rangoli would keep those disguised vampires away.
The light and colours glimmer against the night but again they fail to evoke the festive spirit. She looks up to see tangerine splinters in the sky, a glimmer of hope before turning into smoke, just like bloated promises.