Dirty Little Liar

My dad wanted to give me a snack yesterday.

We went into the city and he packed a back full of my favorite foods. He offered the each to me, one by one, his face hopeful every time.

I told him I’d had a big breakfast.

We got into the train station with time to kill and he wanted to buy me a snack. Cinnabon? A pretzel? A cookie?! His tone hurt my heart. All he wanted was to buy his daughter a cookie.

How about we share this smoothie? He bought a big strawberry one from the cookie stand.

I pretended to drink from it and I worried about the few drops that made it into my mouth.

I hate lying to my dad more than almost anything, but something inside me just isn’t ready to tell the truth.

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