They say the only way to tell is the eyes. At least, that’s what Peter had always heard. Or rather what he thought. It was the reason he always wore sunglasses. Even in the dead of winter.

It was the only way to tell if someone was lying. Something he did often. More so than telling the truth. How did it start? He tried to remember, but that begining started with a lie, too.

I think it was 1980, yes that sounds right. It was my 13th birthday. Wait, no, that was a lie. Let me start over. It was a dark night… crap, still not it. Peter always gave up before getting to the truth. Lying was easier. That way, people never really knew you.

He traveled alone, to defer costs. Once and awhile he’d stop in a small, insignificant town, and come up with luxurious lies of the life he didn’t have.

Of course, it did become tiresome, especially when he lied about having enough food, or a place to stay. Those lies starved him. They starved him of being human. And he was sick of it.