Tapping into Fiction

"You have a problem, you know that?" The woman in front of him said. She had kind eyes, warm and brown, traced with lines of age. Her lips were thin and pink. A quaint woman, really.
"Mae, would you quit yelling? I'm fine, I don't have a problem" his index finger tapped his jeans with the tempo of his heartbeat in his ears.

---

He's always been this way. It wasn't really a problem, but a hobby. The lies he told were just an instinct, an intricate part of life.

That is, until the girl.

Lies are still intricate, and still instinct, but now the will to fight instinct is stronger. He can't continue this hurtful way of living.

cover by blindsighted