Wordle #1028 – WHINY
But I don’t think Bree’s stupid—not at all. Flaky and forgetful, sure, but also clever and charismatic. And more calculating than I’d previously thought possible, if these last few days are any indication.
We lapse into silence again.
It’s almost dark now, and the oncoming cars’ headlights sweep across Bree’s face like spotlights searching for an escaped prisoner. The severe lighting accentuates her already wrung-out appearance, throwing the smudges of mascara on her cheeks into harsh contrast, and I’m inclined to believe she might really be torn up over this whole thing. Maybe…
I take the exit for the 237, no more than ten minutes away from my apartment now, and I can feel us drawing close to some sort of Rubicon. Bree must feel it too, suddenly piping up.
“You won’t turn me in, will you?” Bree says pointedly, like it’s not even a question, like I’d be an absolute idiot if I betrayed her.
“Are you kidding me? I’m not going to sweep this under the rug for you. I can’t just… forget about it.”
“No no no, Cecilia! Please, don’t do this to me—" Her pleading turns petulant to my ears, whiny. Like a spoiled child begging to stay up past her bedtime.
“You did this to yourself, Bree.” I switch lanes a little too aggressively. “Don’t try to pin it on me.”
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