She's sitting there, across the table from us, lying. Lying right to our faces. And we KNOW she's lying. We know she's lying, she knows she's lying, but she clearly doesn't know that we know she's lying. She sits there, telling some outlandish story because the more detailed and complicated it is, the more likely it is to be true, right? She weaves her fairy tale story, twisting and turning and spinning this intricate explanation for where she was, who she was with, what they did, and what the weather was like when they were there doing whatever it was that they supposedly did. And it's all bullshit. And we KNOW it's bullshit. And I find myself sitting there, looking at her feeding us these lines, nervous but working hard to cover her nerves with the false strength of deception and I just keep thinking...'stew'.