Write four lines of prose about: the fake.
Had a productive, but not particularly exciting, day. Back to work tomorrow for my usual 9 to 5 shift at the gym, though I do believe there is a birthday party booked for the bowling alley at 3... so I'm not sure if that whole leaving work on time thing is going to happen.
I should not have been surprised to learn that it was all false. The smile, the laugh, the compliments, the love. I've lived enough years, seen enough pretenders, made more than enough mistakes; there was really no need to go down that road again.
Yet there I was, dating another prostitute...