I Share Beautiful Things With Beautiful People

Dear Mr. White,
I have been wrongly accused.
Please help me.
The only crime I am guilty of is sharing beautiful things with beautiful people.
They are counting on you.
Contrary to what most people will try to convince you, being a lawyer is by no means a difficult job. That being said, most people aren't particularly good at it.
After what happened, I can consider myself among them.
I struggled to read the words on the screen through tired, hazy eyes. I had just woken up, having fallen asleep at my desk once again.
As I began to focus I became confused. The email had no subject, and the address was simply "beautiful@therightthing.org". I rubbed my eyes. It was far too early for this.I glanced at the time on my computer screen.
1:02 AM
That would explain why my office was so dark.
I peered into the black void, temporarily blinded by the nearly pure white screen.
I stood up from my chair and walked to the door. Perhaps I would have time to get some more sleep before my case at 9:00.
Still unable to make out my surroundings, I felt for the handle and twisted the knob, but it wouldn't turn.
Damn. I suppose a janitor had locked it, not knowing I was there?
I let out a sigh as I turned around. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I noticed the state my office was in. Papers were strewn about, and a cabinet lay on its side. That was odd. I can't stand to have things out of place.
As an attempt to calm myself I started to clean up. Most of the pages were nothing important. Rough drafts, emails, some were simply blank. I picked up a piece of paper that had a heart drawn on it. Beneath it was a small picture. One that looked professionally developed. I slowly turned it over, my mind racing as to why this was in my office.
[Image removed due to author request]
This was the face that stared back at me.
I dropped it, stumbling backwards in some desperate attempt to escape. I retreated to the corner of my office, gasping for air. I don't know how long it was until I gained the courage to take a second look, but I slowly walked back to where the picture lay, eternally grinning.
I let out a sigh of relief when I saw that it was photoshopped.
I was still uneasy. I had never seen this picture before. Had someone had broken in and placed it there while I slept? what if they had locked me in?
Oh god. My hypothesizing was brought to an abrupt stop as I realized,
My door doesn't have a lock.
Hardly knowing what I was doing, I rushed to the door, trying to push it open with all my might.
The knob wouldn't turn.
I collapsed, and noticed from the ground that the email had changed. I don't know if it was desperation or hope that caused me to crawl to my desk. I stood and saw what was written.
Dear Mr. White,
Isn't she beautiful? I have many more children.
We all live together in one big house.
Now all of the beautiful people you know can live with us too.
I share beautiful things with beautiful people.
I slowly realized the email was from me, addressed to all of my contacts.
It was written on my computer
Over my shoulder I heard the sound of teeth grinding against each other.
But now I'm beautiful.
And soon you will be too.
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