August 25, 1982 - Miami

     While the humans complain about the thick air crushing their lungs, I stare blankly at the ceiling in her apartment. The floor fan blowing humid air in a desperate attempt to cool the night. Saturated with sweat, the bed sheets cling to me uncomfortably but I do not move. My mind is calm. My thirst is satisfied. I never intended to kill her but I make the most in this temporary peace. My body does not urge me to hunt, my mind does not plague me with memories, and my guilt has not yet set in. This is the serenity that people search for. No longing. No desires. No worries. Just me, a stuffy room, and a still-warm body. Her body will begin to show signs of death. The stench, the stiffening, and the pallor. But for now, for this one moment, her arm is draped across my stomach as through she is merely sleeping and there is a tapping on the floor where her blood drips from her fingers that is lulling me into a subtle tranquility. For this one moment, my life is perfect.