She goes for the gold and then tries to settle for bronze when it doesn’t work out. I can’t tell her it’s her fault; she’s a mess, and she ran to him.
We all run somewhere on Halloween. We run to our costumes to hide our faces. We run from our fears and by disguising ourselves as them, think we have. As kids, we run around our neighborhoods, trying to grab as much of that coveted candy as we can. There is no more running for Amy; the costume’s broken. The eyeliner has all since washed away, and the bee-hive hair-do is ascu, and she’s the only one who can make amends.