The priest's eyes go wide and she ducks out of view, leaving the tips of her dirtied sneakers behind. Visible beyond the cover of milk crates.

Elia's emotions blend together: a near unbearable concoction of relief, mind-scrambling confusion, and anger stoked by jealousy. For a moment, her mind goes back to her mirror. A pocket and an undone clasp away from absolution.

She grinds her teeth as if milling her thoughts into a decision. No. Not yet. I just need to go another hour. She lets her jaw relax, but the jealousy still burns. Why is Bamboo with her?

Thea cowers behind her stack of milk crates, unmoving.

"I can still see you." Elia says.

No response.

She starts forward. "Thea. Why is Bamboo here?"

Not two slaps of work boots later, Thea scrambles into view. "O-oh, E-Elia. I didn't realize it was you." She sniffs at the air once and shrinks into herself. "Sorry. Don't be mad, p-please. Whatever I've done, whatever you're envious of—"

Elia's backfoot clings to the asphalt, stopping her advance. "How do you know that?"

"Oh, I shouldn't have said anything. Please forget—"

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"How?"

Thea flinches and brings her shoulders up around her neck. "I can smell sin." She says. "Hyacinth; W-well, envy. You already knew that. Sorry. All the big bad ones smell like flowers. You've got other smells too, but hyacinth is the strongest—" Realization flushes Thea's face. "B-Bamboo? This is your cat?"

Elia huffs. "No, I just look after her. Actually answer my question this time: what's she doing with you? And stop sniffing at me like that. I can see up your nostrils when you do and it's gross."

"Sorry. Sorry. I'm f-frazzled. After the whole— the— you know, the pushing thing. I don't know; you scare me a little. A lot."

Elia's heart thrashes once — off beat. Her hand rises to her chest; not to her pocket and the mirror within, but to her heart. Shock. "I—" She starts.

No more words come. Only breathing. Her own, unfulfilling despite its heavy timbre. Like the gust of a thunderstorm roiling behind her eardrums.

Meanwhile, Thea hums. Not the musical sort; more anxious. Her whole body jitters in tune. Hands, eyes. Toes too if Elia could see them.

Combined with Thea's words, the sight provokes Elia's heart to thrash once more. It's happened again. Again.

Her husband, her daughter, Duffie. Now Thea. Her anger— no. Elia can't hide behind her anger; not anymore. Not after I started trying.

This was all her fault.

She tries to speak, but a knot obstructs her throat. She forces the word past. "Sorry."

Thea waves her hands out in front of her, as if trying to erase her last sentence. "Sorry, I-I shouldn't have said anything."

"Yes you should have."

"What do you mean? Oh. Oh! You're apologizing to me?"

"Yes."

"Phew, I was starting to think I was unreasonable b-back then. Maybe it's all the thinking about it that was unreasonable, huh? Ha."

Flame bursts out Elia's gut. She's got to keep drilling after I've apologized? I should—

Elia slams her eyes shut and locks herself in thought. I'm reacting. I need to be thoughtful. Deliberate.