Morgan propped the rear door open with the half-cinderblock left in the alley for that purpose. He scattered the day-olds onto the ground and sat to wait.
They'd never quite gotten used to him, but they'd accepted that he came with the free cinnamon rolls, and they were willing to tolerate that. Gray, soot-streaked coats and tangled manes couldn't quite hide the shine as the stallion of the herd flipped a raisin bagel over with his horn.
Morgan smiled. "Mom always told me it was worth keeping myself pure," he told the unicorns. "I didn't quite believe her."
A Graveyard on Halloween
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