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Peter loved pumpkins. He reveled in the squash: the texture, the taste, the smell. Halloween was the time that they were revered, worshiped, receiving the attention he believed they deserved. It was the time when they were everywhere and he relished those moments. To him pumpkins were perfection come to existence. "Peter, do you love me?" Her voice strained to overcome the chattering of other couples as they walked through the field. "No, why would you ask that?" Peter bent down and picked up a pumpkin, his eyes fixated on it. "It's just that we've--we've been together for a while now. And I-I thought that maybe you'd fallen in love with