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The bat flew into the open window and perched on the headboard. He hopped down and popped into his full self. He smoothed his jacket and adjusted his cape. He peered into the bed. The woman was asleep on her back, her head on a satin pillow. Perfect, he thought. Her blond hair splayed across the pillow; her exposed neck lifted just enough for him to sink his teeth into the artery. His stomach rumbled. Gingerly, he bent over the woman, but he stopped before biting. Heartburn. The smell of the perfumed sheets repelled him and he stood.

A gentle breeze stirred the curtain. He knew dawn was breaking and he had to get back to his cave. He was starving. Pacing the floor, he burped several small eruptions that cleared his stomach. He had been flying around all night–this was his third attempt to eat. He couldn’t understand what was stopping him, why he craved no one. Birds began to rustle outside the window. A dog barked and the woman rolled over on her side.

He assessed the situation. He would either die of hunger or be destroyed by the light. He thought of his cave, across the fields and up the mountain. He could grab a few insects while he flew back. He looked longingly at the woman on the bed while he shrunk down into his bat form. His wings carried him out the window into the grey light of dawn.