Page 55 of Vameer

He feels… like a secret.

Like maybe no one has seen him before.

A man approaches on the sidewalk, stirring me from my thoughts.

As he passes the window, he glances over and startles so violently that coffee spills out of his travel cup, over his fingers.

Once he’s past, I lift my hands. “What the hells?”

I know I didn’t sleep well last night. And I might be a little on edge. But I don’t think I look that scary.

Huffing, I turn back to face the small art gallery.

The dark gallery. Because I forgot to turn the lights on.

Okay, maybe I do look a little creepy standing inside a dark shop.

As I cross back to the wall with the light switches, I glance around.

It’s weird because I can tell it’s dark. I can see that no lights are on. The dreary day means the window at the front isn’t letting in much light at all. But… I can still see just fine.

I can make out the details on the paintings on the wall.

I can tell which sculpture is which on the displays in the middle of the room.

I didn’t bump into a single thing earlier.

It’s like yesterday. In that cave. When it should’ve been impossible for me to see.

But that didn’t actually happen.

My right hand reaches across to touch my bracelets.

It didn’t happen. Except my clothes on the floor were still damp this morning. And the vampire in my mirror was wearing my missing rainbow-colored heart bracelet.

Reaching out, I flip the lights on.

I blink twice, letting my eyes adjust. Then I make my way to the desk in the back corner.

The chair creaks as I drop onto it, and the drawer squeaks as I pull it open.

The desk is filled with random things for the store. Like scissors, tissue paper, tape, and the tablet for taking payments. As well as my unauthorized tiny vases that I’ve been selling on the side.

I pull out the tablet and my tray of tiny vases, then close the drawer.

Setting the tray on the corner of the desk, I straighten the cardboard sign that labels my dandelion vases as seven dollars.

I’ve actually sold quite a few since I started here, nothing to live off, but they’ve paid for a few lattes.

They were just a fun little side project I did when I lived at my last place, since my neighbor was an older woman who taught pottery in her basement. But since I no longer have access to her kiln, these are the last of them.

I push the red one closer to the front, wondering if I should try to find a community studio to make more. Or something totally different.

What would my vampire like?

Shaking my head, I push that thought out of my mind.

The I’m-going-insane vampire from my bathroom mirror doesn’t want a clay trinket.