As the lake gets bigger, the power starts going out in parts of the city. You can tell from the pinpoint flickering in the wind off the lake that the lights in the faraway windows on the other side of the water are lanterns and candles, like fireflies hovering against the black hills on the distant shore. Soon the city started rewriting all the addresses. Without me overexplaining it here, each new address has two parts, one fixing its place on the lake's center. L.A. is a city of drowning addresses.
Vortex sounds like a drain.
It gives the impression not only something's coming up from the hole at the bottom of the lake, but something's going down too. I assumed it was for me, till I opened it. My beautiful K it began, and right then and there I knew he had the wrong girl, labial jewel, riverine rapture and so on and so forth in that vein, for the first few letters anyway, until they became more and more bitter, ecstacy replaced by bile as one after another went unanswered. Of course as each letter became more tormented, it occurred to me to write W and put him out of his misery. I mean, after the first one it was pretty obvious the letters weren't for me.