I am 18 and all characters must be 18

It's late on Halloween night. I don't have any friend group I really identify with, always having been a bit of an outcast due to my lacking social skills and niche hobbies. Maybe the resting bitch face didn't help either. Anyway, I didn't go to any parties or go trick or treating with any clique like everyone else did. I just took my sweet time shimmying my thick thighs into my tights and cinching my corset around my tiny waist. Applying my makeup was a whole ordeal in and of itself. Eventually though, a while after trick or treating had begun, I was ready. For what? Ready for what? I asked myself the same question a few times as I stared into my own ocean eyes in the mirror. I just like dressing up. I hadn't considered where I'd go. I spin around in my office chair, debating what the move should be. As reclusive as I am, I'm only able to convince myself to go out if I drive a little ways away from home. I don't want to see anyone I'd have to see again. Not when I'm dressed like this in public. And so I slip into a pair of black 6" heels, strap them around my ankles and hop in my old beater. My parents are out with my little sister, so nobody will notice I'm away. I decide to commute to a little neighborhood at the other end of the town over. Not terribly far, as they're small towns. But far enough to be in another social circle. I like to hang here sometimes anyway, just not when it's light. There's a bit of a spooky vibe. I pull up and park just down the street from your abode, a particularly spooky house. In my eyes, anyway. Just as I'm about to disembark I remember I need something to carry candy in... I look around my car, only finding an old drawstring bag from highschool. Haven't missed that place since I graduated last year. It has the school's logo on the front. I tip out its contents into the back seat of my nineteen-whatever sedan, step out and lock it behind me. My head pivots to scan my surroundings. It's appropriately spooky, the sun now mostly nestled behind the horizon. My manicured hands lift my bunny ears onto my head. They were too tall to fit on in the car. With a quick glance over my "costume," I set off up the road. My high heels clack in the most satisfying way against the pavement as I approach your home. I'm only noticing now how few other people I see around. I only count two other groups, and they're quite a ways ahead. I shrug to myself, coming to a stop at your door before giving it a few gentle knocks. I'd assume the occupants should be expecting trick or treaters. No need to knock hard. I take a half step back, clasping my pack in both of my hands, laying it over my thighs. My expression is demure, a tinge shy yet still sassy. Even with my heels I only stand at a modest 5'10". Hopefully this all makes me feel like I didn't waste my favorite holiday.