We found there, tangled in its branches, every lie we ever told. They had joined together, adding in the oranges, and yellows, and reds hoping to become something important. Something worthwhile.

You see, their whole lives they’d dreamed of this; becoming beautiful, being appreciated.

Those little lies had looked forward to the day when they would be photographed and shipped to Great-aunt Lulu in West Jablip. It had all come down to this sickly sweet moment.

Too bad they didn’t know they would die in the end.