The man in the kitchen

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I woke up in the middle of the night for no apparent reason. It must have been the result of the previous day's emotions combined with the medicine I took. Vince slept like a log next to me, and I was desperately thirsty. Without making a sound, I went down to the kitchen and found a man sitting at the table, eating a sandwich, just like Vince and I had done. This man wasn't immortal; I didn't remember seeing him before, but he looked so comfortable there that I assumed he was a guest of Vince's.

As I tried to understand why he was there, the man put his finger to his lips, gesturing for me to be quiet, and then pointed upstairs toward Vince's room. I nodded to indicate that I understood. He then offered me the other half of his sandwich, but I declined, opting instead to drink from a bottle of water. He seemed friendly, though I couldn't quite explain it. He must really be a guest of Vince's, dressed in pajamas and all. I waved goodbye and headed back upstairs.

When I lay back down in bed, Vince seemed to wake up and turned to hug me.

"Who is that man downstairs in the kitchen?" I asked.

"What man?" he replied sleepily, then quickly drifted back to sleep.

I soon fell asleep again, and when I woke up, Vince was gone. I got ready, left a note thanking him for his help and the cell phone he had given me, and then returned to my own apartment.

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