Lost and Lonely in RBC

Counting silently to herself the many books on her shelf she wishes something else she could find to otherwise absorb her time, the beauty she seeks she has not found in text nor in her clay, someone who can be romantic, tender, and caring, not only play. Naïve, the thought that comes to mind how the perfection she seeks could be easy to find. Floating through her unlife waiting for what is next, disheartened but usually smiling, waiting for the vampire who will be there to stroke her hair when the sky turns to twilight. . .