Tonight, you feel weak. You get up silently, walking down the stairs in your slippers to go to the living room. It is plunged into darkness, lit by the moon. You have the impression that the blood substitute Enoch makes for you no longer works the same. You sit on the couch, shivering.

Just when you thought you were paying enough attention to be quiet, a silhouette appears in the doorway, approaching without a sound.

"Honey?"