Two cousins, one movie, and the long walk back We walked into the Elmira 1-2-3 as if through a mouth of light, two boys, Bubby and me, coins warm from our palms. Carpenter’s mask waited: white, unblinking, a face so empty it filled everything. The knife flashed once, and the world narrowed to breath. We didn’t speak then, just watched Laurie run, her terror a mirror for our own. Outside, the street was too still. Each porchlight felt staged, each hedge held its breath. Halfway home, it struck - the pivot of knowing. It wasn’t Michael Myers we …