{Fiction} Confession is Good for the Soul

(Image courtesy of Freedigitalphotos.net / Keerati)
The last time I went into a church, it was to confess. Father Albert asked me my sins, and I told him that I lusted for my neighbor’s wife; how I coveted her, imagining her eyes gleaming when she sees me, her bosom heaving and beckoning me from underneath her low-cut top.
After cleansing my conscious, I asked the father of his sins, my curiosity getting the best of me. No, that’s not it. I didn’t feel comfortable exposing the