Mate

Plop. I look down at the floor. A small bundle, perhaps four by three by two inches, rests on the dining room floor where I sit and chat with a friend on the telephone. Hold on, I say, and focus my eyes. Dried up dead mouse or sleeping living bat I conclude and exhale. Ears flap in the breeze. Wings visible against torso. I take the rest of my phone call on the front porch and watch my vampire through a window. Rest, stretch and flight. It circles close to the ceiling and then disappears. My thirst draws me back inside. It hangs upside down, belly to wall. I watch and wait. Its slumber makes me sleepy. I, too, enjoy an afternoon nap. A cuteness emerges and then a knock on the door disrupts the transformation of bat from beast to beauty. Can he stay? No. Let's have dinner and then proceed with capture. Agreed. Now named Edward, the bat stays tethered and undisturbed. I grab keys, wallet, and sunglasses and close the door behind me.