Dear Ophelia,
I had a feeling, even before you confessed to me, that it was you who told Punkus about our one-time, ill-fated rendezvous! How you hated that Punkus and I were a couple! You insisted, with no encouragement from me, that we would have made a better-suited pair. You even referred to Punkus as "that poor, crippled, waif"! That wasn't fair. I guess you would have made a great catch for someone. You were beautiful, your parents owned a thriving, undertaking business, and you spent your more-than-modest allowance freely! I just thought you were too young for me at the time (even though you were over 21). So I don't know what happened on that fateful Friday afternoon! I thought nothing of your invitation to visit you at the funeral parlor. Usually I would have beeen able to resist your persistant attempts to seduce me. I innocently followed you down the stairs into a darkened, preparation room. "My parents won't return until the weekend," I remember you saying. I should have taken that as a warning! Before I knew what was happening, your formaldehyde-laced perfume overcame my senses, and I found myself making love to you over one of the closed coffins in the room! With that one, unintended act, my life with Punkus was over! Only one thing I need to know from you, Ophelia. Was that coffin really empty?
