Artist Under a Full Moon

I looked in the mirror and saw Tracey Emin's face. It was winter in Montreal and I lived in a low, red brick apartment building. I was in good terms with all my neighbours; I'd leave the front door open and they'd saunter in for a chat or an impromptu party that lasted until dawn. Before midnight, I snuck out of the apartment and took the elevator to the ground floor. The bright yellow T-shirt I wore didn't suit me. I entered a neighbour's apartment and lay down on his bed. He joined me without realizing that, at midnight, I would turn into a werewolf and rip his face apart.