This is a personal letter we found addressed to Kaf Kafkaryan’s mother. It is unclear who wrote it but our investigation has shown that this mysterious woman had many fans. — Editor

Dear Kaf’s Mom,

I hope you do not take this letter the wrong way. I have tried to express my true feelings on many occasions, but I was always too shy to tell you how I really felt. There is a magical aura around you that both mesmerizes and terrifies me. I don’t know if it’s your pale blue skin, your thin green hair, or your sunken eyes that haunt my darkest dreams. Sometimes I see you as the most beautiful thing I have laid eyes on, but at the same time I also can’t help but to see you as this disgusting creature worthy only of pity or contempt. It is these paradoxical feelings you inspire in me that make you irresistible.

My only regret is not having known you in your better years. When Kaf moved in here you were already in a wheelchair, unable to speech or even smile. No one seems to know much about you, not even your son who politely dodges any questions about the matter. That is not necessarily a bad thing, for this only adds to the mystique surrounding you. I often wonder what you do all day, sitting alone in that miserable apartment watching TV. Are you even watching? Or are you thinking of days long gone? The way your eyes seem to follow everyone who visits you makes one wonder if that’s only your way of showing them they’re unwelcome here, or if it’s a hidden cry for help from an aging woman longing for human communication.

I can’t even tell you that I am in love with you, for that would be greatly simplifying the matter. It’s more the way you’d feel if you brought in a pet beetle that has lost all but one of its legs. At first, you can’t help but think it’s a burden and that death would be mercy for it, but over time you develop a unique bond with the insect as you come to realize that within each creature there is an infinite capacity for both love and hate. The beetle is only a metaphor for your inner self and a reflection of the light that is born in the darkness of our souls. These are the feelings that torment me and give me restless nights. I thought writing this letter would help me better understand our complex relationship, but I see it only muddled things further. Nevertheless, I feel that you must know all of this, for I am no longer capable of suffering in silence every time you lay your dead eyes on me and expose my inner fears and demons the way you do.

Your Secret Admirer