It Is Time
A man can tell a thousand lies.
Over time, he can tell many more.
Denying that seeing her hair in sunlight, watching her eat blue jello, or just letting his mind drift off to her bright smile whilst she babbles on about some doohickey or other, simply makes him happy.
Makes him complete.
But after a time the lies get stale.
After a long time, they become rotten.
And they hurt.
So he looks at the letter in front of him.
It is time.
He does not want to lie anymore.
So he won't.
He signs his name.
He retires.