Photosensitive skin

Whenever he left his apartment, the hallway was silently dark. Most of his neighbors were going to bed when he woke.

He carefully locked the door and tucked the entire cluster of jingling "openers" into one of the numerous pockets of his wide, dark green combat trousers. He carefully stepped out of the building.

He lived in an old housing estate of four-story apartment buildings, recently repainted in faded yellow and faded green. But colors don't matter much at night.

Darkness filled every window, with only solitary streetlamps illuminating the gray sidewalks and gray-green lawns.

The bus stop was only a few hundred meters from his house. Unfortunately, buses no longer ran at this hour. He had to take the longer route through the cemetery, behind which was the tram stop. He didn't meet anyone along the way, and only at the bus stop did a tired girl keep him company. She was probably heading home. Normal people do just that at this hour. "Czerw," as he called the trams, arrived five minutes late.

Every minute counts. The night doesn't last forever. Nightclubs close before 6 a.m.

He settled into a bright yellow plastic chair at the end of the car. The girl sat at the very front, leaning against the window. She was probably trying to doze off. A few stops later, he left her alone in Czerw. He watched for a moment as the tram and its passenger sped away along the endless tracks. Once it was out of his sight, he crossed the street. A little further on was a pub formerly known as "Uliczka." Inside, it really did feel like some old, forgotten alleyway where many unpleasant characters might await. The name had now been changed to "Esencja," but the old impression remained.

Upon crossing the threshold, he was greeted by gray clouds of cigarette smoke and rhythmic music that he had long since grown tired of. People sat at their tables, their empty beer mugs surrounding them, chatting over the music. Some propped their chins on their hands, too tired to do anything. Others were heading home.

He knew that with each passing hour, their numbers would dwindle. And as usual, he'd be the last to leave.

Usually, there wasn't much to do. Sometimes he'd dance with the last remaining dancer. He liked having the dance floor to himself. Sometimes he'd join the last remaining partygoers, chatting about anything and everything.

He hadn't used to be so sociable. But loneliness can change anyone. And for a very long time, he'd been very lonely.

Today the dance floor was empty. People began to disappear faster than usual. Finally, after just one beer, only he, the bartender, and a boy sleeping on one of the benches were left in the pub. And the girl. A lone creature with pale makeup sitting in a dark corner, occasionally illuminated by one of the rotating neon signs. She sat there alone, as if waiting for someone. Maybe he'd stood her up.

Maybe she's waiting for me? He smiled to himself. He approached her.

"Maybe?" he asked, gesturing with his mug to the table.

"Sure," she replied, a sweet smile spreading across her face.

"You're here for the first time, aren't you?

" "Yes."

"You looked like you were waiting for someone..." he didn't finish, as the girl quickly interrupted him.

"No. Yes... Maybe I was waiting for you," she began flirting.

He quickly picked up on the game. After all, no one likes to walk home alone.

The conversation flowed smoothly; they were both well-versed in the nightlife, where conversations between two strangers about sex don't exactly evoke blushes or outrage. At night, everything happens differently. Polite school uniforms are replaced by tiny skirts and revealing necklines. Tea, as if touched by Jesus, transforms into a brewery.

"It's early," he glanced at the clock on his cell phone. He suggested they get ready to go home and invited her to join him. Usually, they'd turn him down, but this time she agreed. They walked together to the tram stop.

"Have you been leading this nightlife long?" she asked as they boarded the train.

"Is it that obvious?" he smiled bitterly. "Three years," he replied after a moment.

"Don't you like the sun?

" "I do. But my skin doesn't. I'm allergic to sunlight.

" "It's the same as me. I've already started to miss sunrises. I used to love watching them.

" "Why don't you do that anymore?"

"I need to catch up on sleep, silly," she laughed, the entire tram empty. Luckily, there was no one else on it.

Finally, they reached his apartment door. He let her in and asked her to wait a moment until he returned. He disappeared from her sight for about five minutes. When he reappeared, he was holding a videotape.

"Where were you?" she asked without feigning curiosity.

"On the roof. Let me show you something."

They entered his room. The windows were covered with a black blind. He turned on the light, but only one of the three bulbs in the ceiling lamp worked. The room wasn't anything special. More like an ordinary one. On the table stood a small television, and beneath it a stack of videotapes.

"Sit down," he pointed to the couch opposite the screen.

He inserted the cassette into the VCR and sat down next to her.

For a moment, the picture tube showed only static, but then a residential landscape emerged. It showed concrete blocks painted faded yellow and green, trees with colorless leaves, and a navy blue sky. After a moment, the sky began to brighten. The sun slowly emerged from behind the horizon. A moment later, the sky was blue, the colors on the blocks became more vibrant, and the trees were covered with lush green leaves.

The girl snuggled up to him. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"Wonderful..." she said, sinking her white fangs into his photosensitive skin.