Hi. We met and talked for ten random minutes. We traded emails, remember? I convinced you we had something in common.
Your intuition told you the digits should remain inaccessible.
Now, months later, I am slow and steady emailing you to death.
This is my fantasy. To know you, with or without your consent. Can you blame me?
Who wouldn’t want to know a girl with such long legs and eyelashes, perfect teeth and intuition?