If the courier is to be believed,
there’s nothing to report.
One wants desperately
to trust the ol’ sport.
In the absence of news,
there’s a good, of sorts. 21 more words
She was the ultimate, unreliable narrator. Her words were a compromised version of credibility, even to her own ears. In the silent space that occupied the ever-growing void between her own voice and her friend’s supportive responses, she would inwardly chastise herself for uttering such obvious untruths. 86 more words