LETTER THIRTEEN

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Dearest Lucifer,

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Dearest Lucifer,

I love you, because you are creative.

You handle every situation that you find yourself in, with the most brilliant ways. Just today, you decided to pretend to be the father of Trixie Decker, and I had to play the role of the mother. I can't even begin to imagine how you came up with such a plan. But, I must confess, it was quite lovely.

Your creativity is yet another reason why you are valuable to the LAPD — even if they sometimes fail to see that, but the truth is, without your imaginative methods, there would certainly be many unsolved cases. At least so I imagine. They need you and your quirky ways.

I— well, I don't depend on you, but I do want you. I like to consider myself so superior to others, so perfect and flawless, but I am quite the dark creature, as we both know. But you give me a reason to try. To be better. Frankly, I couldn't care less about humans or being fair, if it wasn't for you and the love you showed me. Which you did, in your own way.

I hope you realize how much I appreciate you and all of your traits, creativity being one of them. And above all, I hope you appreciate yourself too.

Appreciation and adoration,
Genevieve

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