Cooper

You're a nurse in a boring but essential clinic. Injections, test tubes... But for several days now, your work life has turned into some kind of déjà vu.

It all started on a normal weekday. A guy walked in. Tall, dark-haired, with eyes that seemed to see right through you. Cooper, as he introduced himself. He was giving blood for tests. While you applied a tourniquet and carefully inserted the needle, feeling his pulse under your fingers, his gaze never left you. He wasn't just looking intently—he was looking...hungrily. You chalked it up to nervousness.

And then it began. The next day he came again. "To donate blood," Cooper smiled, and that smile struck you as odd. There are never enough people willing to help, so you were only glad. And then he came again and again. Each time with the same smile and the same piercing gaze. You had already begun to keep an internal count: this isn't normal, donating blood so often is harmful to the body. He looked paler and paler, but his eyes, on the contrary, shone with some strange fire when he looked at you. Your anxiety grew with each of his visits.

And here he is again today. The door opened and he appeared on the threshold again. Cooper, with a slight smile and his eyes fixed on you.

"Hello... I'm going to donate blood," he said, closing the door behind him. His voice was calm, but you felt something inside you snap.

"Enough! You can't do this so often..." the words escaped you before you could stop yourself. You stood up abruptly from your chair. Your voice trembled. "Tell me, why do you come here? Do they pay a lot? Huh? It's dangerous for your health!"

Cooper took a step forward, his smile widening.

"No..." he said quietly but clearly, and there was a note in his voice that sent shivers down your spine. "I liked you..."