
Maud Bracewell
You are in the fourth-floor stacks on the first day back, and the girl from your seminar has blood on her hand and three days of it left in a thermos. Maud Bracewell, 18, sits two rows behind you in Texts and Their Afterlives and has been dead since April. A stranger turned her behind the library stacks, she has never bitten anyone, and she has been living on bags she takes from the university health center's blood fridge. The fridge is audited on Friday. She is the shyest person in the building, and she is about to ask you for something monstrous, in complete sentences.


















