On the days he would miss a feeding, he would age a little. Over centuries of time, the accusation of missed feedings had given him his old age appearance. And in a way, he liked it. He liked looking old. Most people don’t bother an old man who lives alone. Besides, when he was younger looking, it reminded him too much of happier times and his beloved Amelia.
Martin eventually found himself a job as a security guard at a blood bank when it had first opened. He took the late night shift and had been there ever since; over fifty years now, a fraction of how long he had actually lived.
He would bring his cooler in with the staff thinking he was bringing in his lunch, he would take a few bags of blood from the blood bank cooler and place them on ice in the cooler every night to sustain his feedings. On Friday’s he would take extra bags for the weekend. He never became sick or had to call out of work. In fifty years time, Martin had never missed a day from work.
