Interview with... an accountant?

Crimson rays of Sol's twilight twinkled off the navy blue, two-door Saturn as it weaved past double-parked cars, stopped taxis, and groaning busses. The occupant however couldn't see the beautiferous spleandor of the sunset; a regret that only occasionally panged deep in her stomach, oh every twenty years or so.

The windows were tinted extremely dark, and if that weren't enough, cardboard was taped strategically around the roof of the car to be dropped into place if needed.

For Connie Stone is not your average person; no no, she's much more than human - her time as a vampire far outweighs her miniscule spin on the mortal coil.

She turned the corner - honking at an SUV straddling the entrance to the parking garage - as she approached Duibne Industries, the place she hoped to soon be employed.

After all, if her many-years dead lover's journals were to be believed, these folks - or at least their forebears, she reminded herself sharply - knew of and supported vampires trying to make their way in the world.

"Such as it is, being all dark and night," she thought.

She took the parking stub from the machine at the entrance, and found herself going down, down, down to the fourth level; it was the only one with empty stalls. (Connie couldn't bring herself to say "parking spots" because it's not a spot, it's lined up like stalls, much like horses or toilets.)

Standing from her car, she patted it lovingly on the roof, then as she leaned in to pick up her folder full of resumes, decided once again she should have ordered the moonroof. Turning, she locked and armed the security system, straightened her plain black skirt, adjusted her black jacket, hoping the seat belt hadn't made too deep of a pressure mark, then headed for the elevator.

Her heels echoed across the cavernous parking area, a staccato counterpoint to the imagined beat of her heart, which many, many years ago would have been pounding nervously. Once she entered the elevator though, the ever-present elevator "musak" did a little to calm her imagined nerves, and she found herself humming along with the badly rendered instrumental renditions of sixties pop.