Fireflies Gone by A.J. Odasso My grandmother wrapped me in rouge one cacophonous October, told me my father had worn the same dress. Tomboyish as Red, I asked if she wished Dad had been a girl. She said, “Don’t worry what I wished for, my sweet.” I went to a Halloween party that night and danced with goblins, ghosts, hoodlums, boys in sheets. After, I couldn't find my fleece-lined shoes in the darkness, in the brush. Duck, duck, wolf.