Reading between the lines, she is caught between the lies that built the walls of their relationship. He stands next to her, but his presence is barely there. He is cold to touch, and his breath maintains an unpleasant smell, built on beer and lies. Her senses are deceptive. She asks herself if she really wants the truth. Maybe life is easier to live as a lie, to believe what we want to be, to be happy, even if somewhat fake, rather than face the facts and unwillingly be attacked by the cold hard hurt we all know love brings.
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