The walking dead

George struggled to maintain his composure, not attempting to harm anyone even during this growing hunger for blood as a vampire. He joined the queue at the shop, maintaining a safe distance from the person in front of him, not wanting to lose himself to his primal urges.

Just then, two middle-aged men joined the queue behind George. One leered, "Did you see that blonde bombshell who just walked by? What a stunner."

The other man chuckled lecherously. "Yeah, I couldn't take my eyes off that tight red dress and those long legs. Wish my wife still had a body like that."

George rolled his eyes in disgust. If only they knew how quickly marriage could turn to ash, he thought bitterly, surely they would cherish their wives more while they still walked this earth.

The first man continued, oblivious to George's revulsion. "I'd love to get a piece of that sweet thing."

The men pressed with their vulgar conversation annoying George even more. George shook his head in disdain, barely restraining his disgust at their depravity.

How quickly devotion faded after saying sacred vows. He hoped, for their wives' sakes, the loathsome men's wandering eyes and filthy comments remained forever unspoken secrets.

George wasn't happy with them but he kept quiet. After all, who was he to judge anyways? Not that there was ever an excuse for being unfaithful to one's partner. Sure, the argument could go both ways. Be tossed around with a few sensible points but in the end, he never cheated or looked at another woman the way he did with Carmen, his late wife and as hard as it was to not judge, he believed men could be that way if they wanted to.

But right now, all he cared about was getting to the front and purchasing his sustenance before hurrying away.

His vampire body still raged with the urge to pounce and feed on someone, but he resisted through sheer force of will.

Thin beads of sweat formed against his burrows as he could hear their hearts pulsing, their blood rushing, even the subtle sounds of their saliva being swallowed.

It inflamed his insatiable thirst for warm, living vitae. But George clenched his fists and battled against the animalistic craving with every fiber of his being.

The oblivious, chatty men had no idea of the monster that stood mere feet away. Their rhythmic heartbeats and pulsing blood were tantalizingly, agonizingly tempting.

He noticed that every heartbeat was steady and normal, except for one. He turned towards the direction of the erratically thumping pulse to see a heavyset man straining to move crates full of newly stocked goods onto a table.

The man was visibly struggling, his face flushed as he hoisted the heavy boxes. This pounding heart rate and labored breathing continued assaulting George's heightened senses as he waited impatiently in line.

"Ugh, these are way heavier than I thought," the man called Frank grunted as he lifted another crate. His heart was pounding from the exertion.

A coworker called out with a laugh, "Need a hand over there, Frank? Those look like they weigh a ton."

"Nah...I got it," Frank panted, swiping at the sweat on his brow as he grunted again, hefting up the next box with obvious effort. "Though an extra pair of arms wouldn't hurt right about now."

The amplified sounds of Frank's exertions echoed loudly in George's mind. The rhythmic pounding of the man's raced heartbeat was deafening, each pulse pushing that tantalizingly warm blood through his veins.

George squeezed his eyes shut, his fists clenched tightly as he summoned every ounce of restraint to stay in control of the primal, vampiric urges. "Shut it out," he told himself sternly under his breath. "Don't let it overpower you."

Mercifully, it was finally his turn at the front of the line. He hurried to the counter, eager to make his purchase and escape this torturous situation.

As George approached, the shop attendant's expression turned sorrowful upon seeing him, recognizing him despite the hoodie obscuring his face.

"George, I'm so terribly sorry again about your wife Carmen," the attendant said in a mournful tone. "She was such a fine, upstanding officer dedicated to keeping our streets safe."

He shook his head slowly, an air of melancholy surrounding him. "She was such a fine, upstanding officer, dedicated to keeping our streets safe. This city lost one of its best that day."

The attendant paused, reminiscing. "You know, Carmen used to come through here all the time after her late-night shifts. She'd pick up one of our burritos for a quick bite, always with that infectious smile of hers."

He managed a sad chuckle. "I remember she never failed to leave me a little bit of change, too. Insisted on tipping, no matter how small. That was just the kind of woman she was – kind and generous to a fault."

Leaning forward slightly, the attendant fixed George with a sympathetic look. "I really miss seeing her in here, George. This place doesn't feel quite the same without her bright spirit stopping by after a long night on patrol."

George tensed, his jaw clenching. He didn't want to dredge up those still-raw, painful memories when he could barely maintain his grip on restraint as it was. But the oblivious attendant just kept pushing.

"You know, with her dangerous job always locking up the worst dregs of society, Carmen must have made some very fearsome enemies over the years," the man said, shaking his head gravely.

"Makes you wonder if one of those lowlife scumbags she put away wasn't behind that...that 'home invasion' after all."

George's fists clenched tighter beneath the counter as a surge of rage and grief threatened to overwhelm him.

With each thoughtless, prying remark, George felt his tenuous restraint slipping further. His vampire fangs threatened to extend as a storm of dark emotions roiled within him.