He came to her in dreams, a pale white beauty dressed in
dark silk. He was charming, too; he laughed at her jokes and kissed her palms
and stroked the hollow place at the front of her throat.
She began to look forward to the night. Her days were long,
and dreary, and empty. Her nights were
full and bright and real.
Every night: “May I?”
One night: “Yes.”
He kissed her throat, lips warm and soft – but then they
were cold and hard, and then they were not lips but teeth, and she was cold,
and it was dark…
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