Gemotions

David, her "award-winning architect" friend, was showing off photos of a building he claimed to have designed. The images were clearly stock photos. The lie wasn’t a shock, but the audacity of it was what got her. The lie was such a deep part of him that it was hard to imagine him without it. Her hand rested on the cold stone of the park bench.

He rambled on, his voice filled with pride. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the park. She watched a squirrel bury a nut, a simple, honest act. She knew the truth, and the knowledge felt heavy, like a lead weight in her stomach.

She found herself thinking about how tired she was. She had to go home, water her plants, and then just sleep. She tuned out David's voice, her gaze fixed on the swaying leaves of the trees. The wind picked up, and she shivered.