“It’s lonely when you have an opinion.” I heard her voice before I saw her, sitting on the park bench, shoulders slumped in surrender. I glanced around and realized she was talking to me. Without making eye contact, staring at the ground, she continued, “they say they want you to tell the truth but they don’t, really. They don’t want to know how you really feel. But still, they tell you they want the truth.”

I sat on the farthest end of the bench and quietly spoke, “Who wants the truth?”

She looked at me, eyes opened wide, and her gaze penetrated my soul. “Everyone.”