The Devil sent me flowers. Or at least I think it was him. He’s been following me for weeks trying to get my attention. He keeps slipping notes into my bag, and I find little heart shapes cut from Bible pages under my pillow. He tries to read text messages over my shoulder. He found my blog and once he figured out I liked Victorian Lit he got a passage from Wuthering Heights tattooed on his arm. One day, he will pin me down and try to take my soul. I’ll look into his eyes, tell him I love him, and rip out his spinal column.