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Dear Diary,
Yesterday, I followed Michael from his work to his home. I then perched myself on his roof and waited until he fell into a deep slumber. The fool, how he makes my body tremble and sweat. Once he fell asleep, I let myself into the unlocked door. It felt locked at first, but my pure skill and ambition unlocked it. Michael also needs to fix the door frame; it’s broken. Maybe that’s why it was hard to open the door. I made my way up the stairs and into his room. I just stood there and watched him push air in and out of his bountiful body. Glorious. I took some pictures and then grabbed a jar out of my bag. I held the opened jar on his face and as he breathed out pure sweetness, I captured all his essence in the jar for myself. When I returned home at dawn, I took a picture of Michael and glued it to the jar. I’ve named him Little Michael. He’s my best friend.
-Bekah M.
P.S.- I hope Michael doesn’t drink his milk.
