Bronwyn slipped in her room minutes before the first hints of sunrise began to touch the horizon. She went straight to the tiny bathroom and stripped out of her wet clothes, hanging them up around the room to dry. Half an hour and a hot shower later, Bronwyn fell back onto her pillows with a sigh. The room smelled like wet clothes and shampoo. A single desktop fan rotated in the corner, doing its best to stir the damp air. Bronwyn closed her eyes and let herself relax, listening to the general patter of daylight life in the small, homey inn.<br/>Her super sensitive vampire ears picked up every sound made within the walls, and even extended for a distance beyond the walls. Next door a TV droned with the morning news, whose breaking story featured a fatal accident involving a car going over the edge of the bridge leading out of town. Police were unsure as of yet if the plunge was accidental or suicidal, identification of the driver was pending. In the dining room down the hall, a parent chided his young child to eat all of her cereal. The bell over the door tinkled as a guest entered and was greeted by the daytime desk clerk. Tara must have the day off. Water rushing through pipes and falling from a shower head announced the start of someone's morning ritual two doors down and across the hall. A door opened, then shut, then footsteps sounded, passing Bronwyn's door and heading out into the courtyard.<br/>The rhythms of human life had always intrigued the redheaded vampire in room 6b. They were so simply complicated, so predictably spontaneous, both annoyingly boring and wonderfully fascinating. She was perfectly aware that she had started out as human, but those brief decades were sadly insignificant compared to her millennia spent as a vampire. She was a breed apart, capable of imitating human reactions, but not necessarily always capable of feeling them. At least not in the manner that humans did.<br/>Bronwyn settled into a waking doze, patiently waiting out yet another day.