I met this girl – Ronnie, she called herself. She was far too pretty, too fragile to be a Ronnie, so I kept things formal with Veronica. It made her giggle.
I liked to watch her; the blood in her cheeks would rise and I could taste her enthusiasm for my face. She liked my eyes, just like all the rest.
But this one was different. “Why don’t you smile?” she would ask, “Aren’t you happy?”
Her innocence warmed me and all of a sudden, it was too late. I wanted her. I wanted to keep her.
“Come home with me.” I stated boldly. Her eyes locked mine and she knew.
Veronica thought she knew everything. I heard her heart begin to drum as her hair blew the perfume that always made me burn.
“How do you sleep at night?” She asked; staring up at my home as her night began; the beginning of her end.
I opened the door and let her pass. “I don’t.”
I watched the artery at her neck and heard the delicious sound of it beginning to swell.
Veronica laughed. “Bram Stoker would have loved your place.”
I shut the door behind her…with a smile.