My seventh birthday was partially sponsored by the Book-It for personal pan pizzas at a Pizza Hut in The Cities before or after some kind of special activity that's escaped my memory. It's possible this is the year we went to hear a storyteller recount ghost stories in a local park (my birthday is exactly one week before Halloween and I have been a #SpookySeason kid from the start). Before making the forty-five minute drive back to my farm for a sleepover, Laura & I made the trip to the bathroom down a dark wood-lined hallway. Between flushing the toilets and washing our hands, we both heard a moan coming from the floor vent that slowly rose to a howl. We locked eyes with each other at the sink before race-walking back to the table without exchanging a word. On the way home in our family's mini-van, we whispered about the weird sound we heard, speculating about what a wolfman was doing in the basement of that Pizza Hut while sipping pop through our Universal Monsters cups.