The Woman At The Window

by William Morgan

 

She’s at the window again. Every night, the same.Wanting in. But, I see her fangs. I know what she is.

She entices me. She’s beautiful, stunning.  A voluptuous brunette.  Drops a piece of clothing each night.  A vampiric strip.

Shes naked now. She caresses herself, offers herself to me.

I shrug sheepishly, find a notebook,and write her a message.  I show it to her as I mouth

I’m gay

Her face crumples,and,  hands on her hips, she glides away in a huff.

I can relax now, but, Christ, I sure hope she doesn’t have a brother.

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