First Lie Wins

by Ashley Elston

It’s the small touches a woman brings to a man’s home, like the matching throw pillows on the couch or the faint whiff of jasmine from the diffuser on the bookshelf, that every other woman notices the second she walks through the front door.

I envy the gracefulness that comes with knowing that everyone in this town has seen them at their worst and still accepts them.

There’s an old saying: The first lie wins. It’s not referring to the little white kind that tumble out with no thought; it refers to the big one. The one that changes the game. The one that is deliberate. The lie that sets the stage for everything that comes after it. And once the lie is told, it’s what most people believe to be true. The first lie has to be the strongest. The most important. The one that has to be told.

I am a ghost passing through my own life.

The only one who cares about me is me. The only one who is going to make sure I survive is me. I am on my own.