rebeccalora, sharp vampire fangs dimpling her lower lip, wearing a charcoal sweater, black jeans and canvas sneakers, sitting alone in a twenty-four-hour diner at 3 AM with coffee and french fries, a bottle of deep ruby blood on the counter beside her. She is happily talking to a tired black night-shift waitress with glasses, curly african hair and small brown eyes across the counter, rainy darkness outside the windows, warm candid documentary photograph.