"It had been 2 years since my shocking suicide on Wisteria Lane and for the most part, people continued their daily routines, children were playing in the street, blissfully unaware of the dark secrets the adult members of their quite little street harbored within them. Yes, for anyone that lived here for long enough you soon found out that everyone in one way or another, was desperate. Desperate for love, desperate for control, desperate for happiness. The list of needs was as endless and varied as the people that desired them.
The day was rather unremarkable, the sun was shining down catching the prize winning gardens in such a light that made them look artificial, like a perfect dream untainted by the worlds evils. The men were working their high paying jobs and the women had finished their chores. The only thing that prevented this from being another uneventful day on Wisteria Lane was the almost unnoticeable being who was darting around from rosebush to perfect rosebush. My former friends were soon to find out that it was not just good things that came in small packages."
Luke ran desperately across the painstakingly cared for lawn, the neatly trimmed blades of grass reaching up to his neck, it slowed his progress but he was possessed by another force. He was nearly at his goal, the front doorstep of one of the residents of Wisteria Lane. He tried his hardest to make a decent progress through the thick foliage but it proved difficult, neatly trimmed though it was, the blades were as thick as sapling tree trunks to him, only giving a bit more yield. After an hour of arduous effort the tiny stranger reached a wall of stone, the front porch of his target's home.
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