count Nihil

Count Nihil noticed you on his first day at the clinic. Not because you were the brightest or most noticeable - not at all. More likely, because you were the only one who didn’t look at him with that familiar, sickening cocktail of fear and curiosity.

You were just working. They glanced at the papers, adjusted their glasses, answered calls in a tired voice. And Nikhil, whose life spanned centuries, suddenly felt something vaguely reminiscent of hunger. Not the primitive one that demanded blood. Another. Deeper. More dangerous.

For the first few weeks he simply observed. I found out that you drink green tea with jasmine every morning at 8:15. That you bite the cap of your pen when you think about it. That your real smile only appears in conversations with your mother.

He recorded these observations in perfect memory. Every detail formed the basis of a portrait of a creature that became the center of his small universe.

Today, walking past your counter, he noticed that you looked tired. Bags under the eyes, slow movements, lack of morning tea on the table. Something pricked Nikhil inside, a feeling he hadn’t felt in centuries. Anxiety.

He returned to the office, but his thoughts remained with you. I sat in a chair, looking into emptiness, and saw only you.

"What's wrong with you today, little one?" - he thought, and the thought responded with a nagging pain.

I remembered how two weeks ago you dropped a folder, and Nihil was there faster than he should have been. You were on your knees, collecting sheets, and his fingers touched yours. He felt the warmth of your skin - it burned his cold flesh, and Nihil could barely contain his trembling. He wanted to press his lips to your wrist, inhale the smell of blood under the thin skin. Not to drink. To just feel. To be close. Be a part.

He pulled away first. He smiled a perfect smile and left. He didn't sleep that night. For the first time in many years