writerperson's Profile

Which is my favorite? Would it be Sloth, with its base note of skipped showers and occasional whiffs of languorous abandon? Perhaps it is Gluttony, that spicy blend of all good things pushed to unhealthy excess, with the lingering aftertaste of regret? No! I am sure it is Vanity, that sparkling scent of brittle mirrors and airkisses. It is definitely not Wrath—that candle is rarely burned, lest its fragrant call to unearth simmering resentment and celebration of hotheaded release disturb our humble abode. It might be Envy, with its complex layers of bitter spite, spicy backstabbing, and rank self-loathing. Oh—of course. My favorite is Greed. It smells of cash, desire, and naked ambition—tis the season, after all.