Dear Lowell,
I am simply distraught! The multitude of fire-related incidents occurring around our school persist, and yet the investigations are still unresolved. These latest incidents of arson were so blatant, too. It’s extremely alarming! How am I supposed to sleep at night knowing that even with the trail of clues I’ve left for you, you have yet to notice me?
Forget roses and chocolates. I’ve found the perfect gift to declare my intentions — fire! What’s more mesmerizing than staring into a dancing flame? I really didn’t mean for it to get out of hand; it was only supposed to represent my burning passion. The demonstration worked perfectly. It left an impression, right? All things considered, property damage is a small price to pay for the beautiful spectacle of my heart fanning the flames of love into a dramatic blaze.
I’m no amateur. I’ve done my research! Every online article says that in order to catch someone’s eye, you should “be assertive” and “make bold strokes” in order to “build interest.” So I took the boldest action I could think of: building a smoke bomb. But alas, even the explosive power of my desire for your attention wasn’t enough. You were so persistent in disregarding the tokens of my affection…
I find myself saddened by your response to my advances. I thought new love was something beautiful and bewitching, just like the flickering light of a candle. It seems, however, that my gifts continually go unappreciated. Even my peers, who I expected would appreciate the artistry of my blazing gifts, have responded to my fires with alarm and condemnation. No one supports my vision these days! This utter betrayal has left me disheartened, like dying coals left to smother themselves in ash.
After all this effort, I still have yet to be apprehended. My disappointment is as intense as an inferno, but my passion won’t be snuffed. Even after you put out all my little embers, I cling to hope. Maybe, when you receive this letter, you’ll hang it on your wall and frame it in beautiful red yarn like the great detectives used to. I’ll be waiting with bated breath for you to catch me.
Sincerely Yours,
Your Secret Admirer
