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
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.