In pursuit of punishment

by aeonian

There are easier ways to go to hell.

Bree cannot remember why she chose this one, except Lynette laughs like she means it and has skin the color of fall, and she says she has ten minutes till dinner but she kicks her shoes off across Bree's bedroom floor, and Bree cannot remember why not. Lynette leaves like a burglar, barefoot, and Lynette lies like a criminal, wiping the smudge of lipstick from her shoulder. It is the only thing she does perfectly.

There are easier ways to go to hell, but this one comes naturally to both of them.

They trade cookbooks in the kitchen before Lynette leaves, and are unquestioned. They brush grass from their flushed thighs in the backyard, and are unseen. They are so good, Bree wonders if not even God can catch them. And God, that feels good.

But it won't get her to hell. So she does what comes unnaturally: she is sloppy, lets Lynette in when Danielle should be home, forgets an earring in Lynette's bed, and at lonely long middays she calls the office and leaves her name.

Bree sits on the floor beside her bed and bows her head in prayer.

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