You Are Not a Noun

Image from Pixy

Back when I worked at a large mental health clinic, the receptionist came into the lunchroom and said a vampire had stopped by and was asking to see a therapist. She asked, who wants to work with a vampire? Everyone’s hands shot up because vampires are fascinating. The receptionist must have liked me best because I got chosen. She showed the vampire to my office while I finished my lunch.

When I made my way back to my office, I thought the vampire must have changed her mind because the lights were out. They were on a motion detector switch and, when I stepped in, they went on and I saw the vampire had been sitting in the dark.

We talked for a while about the vampire’s taste for blood, her late hours, and her penchant for sleeping in boxes. She requested evening appointments and came back a few times, always to talk about the same thing. I began to wonder if we were getting anywhere, and where we were supposed to go.

Then one evening, I went to the waiting room to get the vampire. Not seeing her, I said to the receptionist, “I thought you said [name omitted to protect the vampire’s confidentiality] had arrived?” Hearing her name, my client called out, “I’m here.” She was no longer a vampire and I didn’t recognize her.

I was eager to get back to my office and ask her what happened. “Aren’t you a vampire anymore?”