16694--One Last Sunrise

"No, that's it!" she said with unmistakably certain finality.  "I've had enough!"
"You're being silly," he told her.
"No, I'm not," she said.  "I hate...existing like this.  It's gone on too long."
"Oh, come on, Monique...You can't--"
"Too many years," she said, walking over to the bedroom window.  "I hate the backwards hours."
"They come with the territory," he said as he casually lit a cigarette and began inhaling through it as though he had been unable to breathe before.
"I miss seeing the sun."
"Too much sun is bad for you."
"Gorgeous, awe-inspiring sunrises," she said passionately.  "Spectacular sunsets...the feeling of pure, brilliant sunlight warming your cold flesh."
"Speaking of which," he said, "it's almost dawn."
"I know."
"So get undressed and come back to bed," he told her.  "We should be getting to sleep."
"So we can be all rested up for tomorrow?" she asked.  "No.  It always comes back to what I hate most: blood.  Mon dieu, so much blood."
"I never knew you were so squeamish.  You hide it well."
"I didn't like seeing it at all before, when...when I was alive," she told him.  "I certainly don't like drinking it now."
"And so?" he asked impatiently.
"I'm going up to the roof," she said, closing the drapes.  "I want to see one last sunrise."
"It's going to hurt, you know," he said, extinguishing his cigarette like he was crushing the life out of a bothersome bug.  "It's not worth it."
"I think it is," she responded, moving toward the door.  "It's funny how people never realize how beautiful things are until they can't see them anymore.  I'm going to savor this like a last meal."
"Awfully expensive meal."
"You can come, too," she said, holding a hand out to him.  "I won't command it, but--"
"I'll pass, thanks."
"So be it," she said.  "You'll be free when I'm gone, but you'll be fine on your own."
"I know."
"I'll see you in Hell, then."
"I guess," he said, turning off the bedside lamp and rolling over.  "Save me a window seat."
She took a last look into the dark bedroom, fighting back the swell of emotion she felt building within her.
"Au'revoir," she said.
"So long," he replied, but she had already vanished from the doorway.

 Dawn was the hour of innocence, sweeping away the veil of night and leaving the world fresh with all the possibilities of a new day.  One welcomed the sunrise as no other, regarding it as the most beautiful sight in all creation.

 A tear of blood rolled down her cheek as her flesh began to blister and burn.  Emotionally overcome, her many centuries surrendered in seconds.  Monique fell to her knees, becoming blue flame and hot ash, as she died.