No one was certain of his path. Where his footprints were left. How he turned over stones at the edge of a shore. Talking through unlived memories was sport and the more fictitious his stories were, the more he believed them himself. Eating rendang with Indonesian monks, a meal prepped by its country's most known chef, was the last tale he pieced together over a lunch date. The woman's eyes shifted, almost almond in shape that gave a path more narrowed in concentrating to his words. They flowed off of his tongue like the ease of sipping a half glass of red wine. Dark and robust to prep what he was going to follow with shortened silence.

Many breaks of speaking was more than enough to get his spiel across that Lyle was a worldly man and had a mind to become more open to the things he saw and lived. Always furthest from his blanketed truths, he wondered if continuing to do so, to pretend he lived a life more extraordinary than his own, would drive him deeper into a dark hold of misery. Each fable felt like detachment of self. Of reality. Of the spirit he once was bound to. Anyone who was unfazed by decent looks and an offshoot of a charming personality, saw right through it all. If not, he wondered about the people he met. Why they weren't sharp enough to pierce through.

He timed this lunch. Giving it 90 minutes tops with enough time to sell a bit that was never himself but wish it had been. As a young boy he did the same for reasons of escape while unwillingly servicing the idea that he belonged to a moving household where no roots settled had been for long. Those roots barely took causing deep seated resentment to extinguish where the truth was safe. In spaces with people who wanted to seek out and through to his soul, he blurred their sense of direction to get there. Similar antics were done to his ex-wife until her hipness rounded out. Catching him in place and reeling back to reality. Their shared parts that were required to be present while running a household both were unprepared in operating.

His abuela knew well. His sister's knew well. Two of the three kids he gave a home to knew well and for that had been more than plenty. His lunch date spun a question his way, asking his thoughts. Interested in a place he had the most difficult visiting. A glass tipped forward, pointing in her direction. Telling her without saying a word that he was going to get to that. Keep the world of his in order by emphasizing what was possible of going wrong. Lyle's chin butted out to comfort his hand in rubbing it. A sign of thinking. Pondering to stay on or off script when nothing of substance would stick to him in the end.

The sport of it all filled to the brim with excitement. Titillating parts he had cut himself off, to work through the noise of guilt, selfishness, loneliness, and misunderstanding. Blinding others to the joy of relegating one lie into the next until catching up was closer than it appeared. Fingers stroking the hairs of his chin killed pursuit of drawing out more until he opened the trap door letting pushing out air. It filled the space between his lunch date's ears. Replacing the person who told him of a well loved adventure. He stated Suzhou, China and it's canals being used to travel. The boating having rocky appeal as mode of getting to a place where the water became the bustling street.

Rough were the streams traveling down and opening up to the mass of water that was an outreach into sickness. Sea sick claimed his bogus trip showing that he deeply looked down on trying to have a great time realizing the potential of how another community of people lived their day to day as if his had been remarkable even as of recent. There was likely any specialty about Lyle even down to what he truly enjoyed except the growing conflict attached to the lining of his gut. Resting there. Growing like a tumor because he found his niche. He discovered what was working and the sought after attention spicing up a rather mundane day.

Remarkable. Irresistible. Bordering on fantasy, her eyes twinkled keeping ears open to his story. When he waited to coat tongue with the rest of the liquid of the glass, his eyes smiled more than the mouth of lies were delivered. Stinging him to keep up the momentum before she called the lunch off in shorter time than the set minutes he predicted it would last. That was the typical Saturday if his talents were needed elsewhere. If he wasn't stuck in a box of an office, crunching numbers of spending and looking over a widen range of client assets and spending. He was required to be there and had earlier, cutting back on burning out so quickly than usual.

Resting deep into his eyes was a small part growing and the woman settled across, still digging into an omelet that had long since gone cold, peered at him elevating her curious reflection to satisfied smile. He saw the personification of duped in her face instead of what it actually was supposed to be. A genuine interest that came from a genuine story he would have to embellish more as the lunch neared close to its end. Lyle passed on a half smirk to match his half truths and the truths that never really was until sitting in his car to face the music not streamed through the speakers. He focused on taking back the last of his drink. Laid to rest were stories and opened up his ears to inquire about the woman. She would be faceless later. Soon if honest with himself and believed it was fine while the it ended sooner than anything were to start.