The mind of a woman is a conundrum; she may nurture, she may destroy worlds. Beneath the thick lashes and whispered terms of endearment there are thoughts that are unknowable; I wonder, Clarice, what are your thoughts? Do I haunt your dreams years after I evaded your love, the F-B-I? Do you think that I hunt you like a dog? Sometimes I hope to hear from you; I could show you real fun, if only you'd drop the shadow of your father. Are men still eyeing you, hoping to feel your body? Do let me know.
Yours, Hannibal Lector, MD.