Jack turned his back on the figure standing on his moonlit balcony.  Sharon, his wife of some ten years glided into his bedroom, THEIR bedroom, and placed her palm on his back.  He stepped away from her for a moment, walking over to the dresser and leaning with his palms on the smooth wood.

“I miss you so much,” he whispered, looking at the framed picture of his wife, smiling brightly in front of a backdrop of crushed blue velvet.

“I know you do, Jack.”  She slipped closer to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against his back.  "But it’s alright.  I’m here, and we can be together now.“

"Can we?”  He asked, speaking more to himself than to her, glancing up at his reflection in the mirror.

“Of course we can, Jack.  I love you!”  She purred, stretching up to press her cool lips to the back of his neck.  A chill ran down his spine as a tear slid down his cheek.

He gently touched the framed portrait once more, his voice thick as he said softly, “I know you do…”

Whirling suddenly, he slammed the wooden stake in his right hand straight through the vampire’s heart, shoving her to the floor as she crumbles to dust.

“But you aren’t Sharon.”