I’ve never had two WIPs at once (of course neither one has a title).
This is from a short story about a warewolf.
The wolf watched from the dense underbrush as the young family unloaded their car; something was pulling him. He had been alone for over two years since Brian died. He vowed then to never love another human; it hurt too much to lose them. There are drawbacks to being nearly immortal; you outlive everyone you love. He ached for companionship. It wasn’t so much sex he missed as the closeness of another creature.