She had often mistaken truth for profundity. She brushed the straw-colored mess of her hair out of her eyes and winced at the sight of the sun. That had always been her problem, her willingness to accept the smallest amount of truth in everything. The fact of the matter was her whole life had been sweet confection coated lie after lie. Ever since she was a little child whether it was I’ll show you mine if you show me yours or the bittersweet promise of something better yet to come. The truth is, she craved these lies, something to sustain the childlike innocence that had allowed her to believe them. But time had been cruel to her as the waves of falsehoods had begun to wash over her. She could no longer play the innocent. She sat silently as she stared longingly through the cafe window and held the trembling cup to her thin pale lips. She closed her eyes as she inhaled the scent and the taste, as if that cup contained the key to life and she was the sole keeper of that secret.
She drank it in. The bitterness of the drink stung as she struggled to swallow it. As she set her cup down, she gazed out the windows one last time before falling back into the warm embrace of her cane back chair. The very idea of going out, of being apart of the din and confusion as she struggled to make her way through the winding streets was too much. She brought the cup to her lips once again and stopped just short of her mouth. She inhaled the smell again as she closed her eyes, as if praying. Praying to whatever God she believed in to lie to her, just one time. Just one more lie to make it through the day. A lie that she could believe. The lie that this was not her life.