VAMPIRE

It happened one evening right during the five o’clock rush. The store was jammed full of locals buying six-packs and forties, beef jerky, pork rinds and ice cream, the odd vegetable. In the middle of the crowd, there she was. Dark-haired,  dark eyes, high cheekbones, pale white skin. Maybe late twenties, she was wearing some kind of white lace blouse. Beautiful but spooky.

In the middle of the hubbub, she addressed me in an exotic, Central European accent.

“Do you know where there is a good place to watch the sunset?”

The crowd hushed and turned to stare at her.

I gulped, not knowing what to say. Who asks that? Who was she? What was she doing in this crummy liquor store?

“Well, there’s a playing field just down the street…” I said, gesturing feebly in the direction of the Little League diamond.

“Thank you. You have been most kind.” And with that, she floated out the door, never to be seen again, leaving a trail of open-mouthed onlookers in her wake.

None of us spoke. It was if we were under a spell. Maybe we were simply too afraid to say out loud what we were all thinking. That she was a vampire, a sorceress of some kind. Mass hypnosis? Mass delusion? Everyone kind of shook their heads and went back to the happy crass business at hand, the purchase of beer and lottery tickets, the National Inquirer. It was strange.