The bathwater steams as she lowers herself in.
She breathes in the lavender from her candles,
and tries to focus on the tune of woodland flutes.
Her kids are safely sleeping over with friends.
This should be the perfect night, and would be…
If only her husband and his lover, Linda,
weren’t lying dead in the hallway.
She breathes in again, and this time she forgets.
She is in a field of lavender, alone.
Not a care in the world.
She smiles in that tub,
as the red creeps across the linoleum like a snake.