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Dashed Hopes Sydney sat cross-legged, eyes stalking the miniature Snickers bar in Weiss’s hand. “Put that back,” she scolded. “It’s for the kids.” He glanced at his watch, then looked at her. “Nine o’clock. There are no kids.” “But I have candy,” she argued. Disappointment lingered as his fingers ripped the wrapper, a letdown that only chocolate could cure. She lunged at the bar; he faked right, but went left. He held the bar high, out of her grasp. “Say it.” “Trick or treat?” she grumbled. As he leaned in for a kiss, he threw the candy back in the bowl. “Both.”
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