Apologies for the short post tonight. I’m visiting family, and really don’t want to take too much time away from my new baby nephew to write about Cayla and HIM. HIIIIIIIIIIIIM.
I’m just saying, panel three isn’t too clear on what turns into a pumpkin after the party. And I’m hoping it is everyone, everyone and everything around Cayla. I hope that, right after she shuts the door at the close of the night, the car, the valet, the driver, the man next to her, all morph into soggy wet gourd. That Cayla is alone, finally alone, surrounded by a nourishing orange universe. Second to no one. The goddess of all she surveys.