To
    Miss Madam c/o Those Already Gone

Dear Miss Madam,
    I was so nervous to meet you, because so many people told me so many things about you.But I had a story that I really needed to tell so I came to meet you anyway. They said you’d listen and record everything about me and my story, capture every little, flitting detail and then add in a few of your own to ‘spice it up.’ And I needed to tell my story, so I came.
    I was very intimidated by you, but at the same time, very taken. I could tell you were very wise, and I knew you would be; you do know lot’s of people’s stories.
Some people told me that you’d only listen to the best tales, only the ones that really tugged on your heart and made you want to add a few spicy details, and I wondered a lot if mine would be one of them. I really wished it to be.
   When I came, you sat quietly with your glasses on your head and listened to my story. Sometimes I’d pause, and you would shift in your desk chair and urge me to continue. You seemed genuinely intrigued and I was very happy.  When I finished, you were smiling real big and I hoped that meant my story was ‘one of them.’ You said you loved it and wanted to meet again tomorrow (it was late by then). So I left, delighted.
   But when I told people you loved my story and wanted to meet with me again they shook their heads at me told me that you weren’t the person I thought you were. They told me you were a heart-breaker, a dream-crusher, a killer.
   So, Ms. Writer, I am writing to you to let you know that I don’t want to meet with you again tomorrow. I don’t want your spicy details and I don’t want my heart broken or my dreams crushed, and I definitely don’t want to be killed by you. You should really learn to play nice…

Sincerely,
Your Would-Be Character