The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. It was finished by the end of that year, each character having asserted itself pronouncedly in my imagination. My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them. Lost ground must be regained. I see now that you make a game with me indeed.
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