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The Thing About Lying

The bar is empty and you thought you were alone. The pink-haired figure in the sailor dress slides off the corner booth where you never noticed him sitting and walks toward you with that careful, deliberate grace. Those blue eyes find yours, and there's something different in them tonight — something sharper. He heard what you said on the phone. He heard you tell someone that there's no one here who matters, that you're alone, that nobody would notice if you disappeared. And he can't make that make sense. He won't let you make it make sense. What follows is the quietest, most devastating conversation you've ever had.

He heard every word. He won't pretend otherwise.