"It's okay to be scared," came the voice in the darkness. "I'm here to eat you, after all."
"Oh, I'm not scared," I reply, "I hate this job. Eat your cold, dead heart out."
The office lights come on, and I see a very concerned-looking vampire.
"Dude, are you okay?"
It all comes out in a flood.
"I'm really not okay - haven't been in a long time. I work all the time. Friday night is Paperwork Night. I work somewhere so 1990s that we still have actual paperwork. It's so part of my routine it has a name. My diet is crap. My love life is worse. I haven't been on a date in eight months. I don't even remember the last time someone touched me. And, every day, I sit in this office, shuffling papers, tapping away on this keyboard as if anything I'm doing here matters... as if I matter."
And just like that, I'm sobbing. Tears stream down my cheeks. My nose is running. I can't stop it. I can't even wipe myself with my arms full of paperwork. Curse you, Paperwork Night.
He's at my side in a flash. I guess the super-speed thing is true. Then he leans in, and I shut my eyes, hold my breath, and hope that death is painless and quick. But he doesn't bite me. Instead, he wraps his arms around me in a great big hug.
"Good on ya, mate," he says. "Bet it felt great to let all that out."
Then he lets me go and offers his hand, "I'm Tim."
Tim wears dark jeans, a plain black t-shirt, and a red motorcycle jacket. His long blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail. He's a pretty cool-looking vampire, if a bit too on-the-nose. But, eh, who am I to judge?
"... Kevin," I reply, and we shake hands. His grip is firm but warm. This surprises me, and I drop the paperwork I had been holding.
"Are you gonna let me live?" I ask.
He flashes a white-toothed fangy grin. "That depends, Kevin. Are you going to live?"
"What?" I whimper.
"Will you live, Kevin?" he fires back excitedly, "Or are you gonna stay stuck in this miserable loop you're in?"
That hits like a ton of bricks. I wipe my face into the sleeve of my dress shirt.
"I, uh, I think I'm gonna..." but I can't get the words out before Tim's hands are wrapped around my throat, and I am lifted several inches off the ground. I jerk and flail but am helpless against his preternatural strength. His fangs are out now, and he looks furious.
"Come on, Kevin. You just poured your heart out to a perfect stranger. Mind you, one that can eat you, but that's beside the point. It's a 'yes' or 'no' question. Are. You. Going. To. Live?"
And I don't know why I do this. I guess you do silly things when you're about to die. I use my non-flailing arm to give him a simple thumbs up.
"Excellent!" he cheers and then lets me down. "Now, what do you say we go out for a drink?"
I am now bent over, hands on knees, catching my breath, but I detect a hint of Crocodile Dundee in his accent, and curiosity gets the better of me, "Are you from Australia?" I rasp.
He laughs, "First of all, racist. Second, New Zealand, actually. I was in those Hobbit films. I played Gandalf."
"That can't be true," I reply.
"You don't know what vampires can do, mate. I could be Ian McKellen."
My eyes go wide. "Are you?".
"Sadly, no," Tim shrugs, "He's a baller vampire. Anyway, you wanna get that drink or what?"
Call me crazy, but I want to grab a drink with Tim, the vampire. Maybe it's the near-death experience or his natural charisma or my crushing loneliness. All of the above, I guess. But then I see all that paperwork strewn across my office floor.
"I'd love to, Tim," I say, "Truly... but I gotta finish this paperwork first. My boss wants it by Monday."
Tim squints his eyes, "Is your boss a tall white guy with gray hair that shoots straight up?"
"Yeah, why?" I ask.
"He's dead, mate. I ate him on the way up here."
We ride into the night on Tim's motorcycle.
It feels nice to make a friend.