Peter knew Morea never told the truth, much like him, but he felt that he needed to trust her. True, much, if not all, she told him about her past life was false. “Before you came along, I was going to quit lying…” “Really? I’ll keep that in mind.” Most of the boat ride progressed in silence.

About midway through the Atlantic, Peter visited the lounge. Except for a few business men discussing politics, no one was in there. Perfect place to start a lie. he thought, but decided to retrieve Morea first.

“How d’you do?” she interrupted them politely. The men all turned to her. Greetings were briefly mumbled. She began to tell them stories. Peter joined in. “When I was 5, my brother was sent to Vietnam.” The men looked intrigued. “He never made it. He shot himself on the way there. Today’s his 37th birthday.” he stopped to let it soak in…