Dear Anne,
I wake up at night having dreamed of wringing you neck. i get up to go to the bathroom, instead i find you sitting in you living room with your parents and boyfriend. in front of them i take a dull mechanical pencil and slit your throat, then i reach down into your wound and pull out your heart, which is still beating. i feed it you your mom, who finds it delicious and cooks it with a rind sauce, and drinks wine with it. then i pull the rest of your organs out of the slit in your throat, while you die. then i will skin you, and lay it out to dry to use as a throw blanket in Mr. Johnston's guest room.
sincerely,
Remy.