[ WP ] Tell a story in which the narrator tells the reader a single lie . Readers are to deduce what the lie is using hints from the story .

Olivia came home yesterday with a drawing of us, holding hands under the oak tree outside. She asked if we could have a picnic and I told her of course, and she explained she would have to make it. I sat at the table, running my fingers over the waxy crayon that stuck off the paper, scratching chunks of it away. She rattled through the kitchen, talking about anything that popped into her mind, golden locks of her hair sparkling in the sun, straying from the braid her friend Macy gave her at school. I laughed as she attempted to pour juice into cups and missed. The deeply purple liquid flowing between the cracks of tiles on the countertop into a puddle beside her lacy pink socked feet. I smoothed the drawing over as she moved on to making sandwiches, thinking of how we didn ’ t have pictures of us in the house. I would have to remember to take a proper photograph once we got outside, the lighting would be perfect. Olivia wrapped each bologna and mustard sandwich as carefully as she could in the paper towels that now laid strewn across the table. I rolled it back up, smiling at her brilliance. She was so smart for being five, so independent, so quiet. Very quiet, I focused my gaze on her. She pushed a stray hair from her rosy cheek, freckled with weeks of playing outside at recess with her friends. I wished I could come watch her but the teachers have grown very frustrated with me, telling me I can ’ t be in the classroom or on the playground, that I have to leave these children alone. Even threatening to call security. I didn ’ t think I was being that intrusive, but I suppose kids have to grow up at some point. 
 
 We lay in the flittering shade of green leaves, my hand intertwined in her fingers. She told me about dinosaurs, about how plants make food from light, about multiplication. She startled me with this knowledge, I could n't remember kindergarten very well, but I didn ’ t think I learned most of that until grade school. But my Olivia was brilliant, she probably read everything she could in that classroom. She fell asleep curled into me while I sang her lullabies. The sun had begun to set, but Olivia had a big day, and she could sleep whenever she wanted. 
 
 After I dropped her off at school I had to go to therapy. It was my parents ’ demand, their way of keeping me in their control. At least they ’ re helping me pay for the house and for Olivia ’ s schooling. She had to go to private school, with a mind like that. I pulled into Dr. Schumar ’ s office, taking my seat in the waiting room, his secretary looking at me very cross, very suspiciously. I hated this office, I hated everyone in this place. The walls were cold and white, and the chairs were extremely uncomfortable. I wanted to bring Olivia here so she could paint the walls, let her brighten this place a little bit. It could use some color, some innocence and life. 
 
 “ He ’ s ready for you, Tracy. ” The secretary clicked her pen at me and pointed through the door. I pushed my way through, not thanking the secretary because she was a bitch, and ignored all the therapists that waded around me. I walked into his office, where he appeared to be studying some papers, or finishing some notes. I knew he was faking it, he hated meeting my gaze whenever I walked in. 
 
 “ Ah, Tracy. ” He finally said, lifting a steaming cup to his peppered mustache. I waited for him to speak, I hated starting conversations. He always acted like I was full of shit. He placed the mug down and shifted his glasses on his nose. 
 “ And how are we today? ” 
 
 “ Well, I ’ m good and Olivia is -- ” Dr Schumar released a loud sigh and began to massage his temples with his fingertips. I rolled my eyes, exhausted already by this ridiculous session. 
 
 “ Tracy, we made such great progress last week, can ’ t you remember? ” Last week? I skipped last week. 
 
 “ Olivia had a recital, you know I wasn ’ t here last week. ” Dr Schumar raised his gaze to me, I noticed how heavy the bags were under his eyes and how deep the crevices in the side of his lips became when he frowned so deeply. 
 
 “ Tracy, there is no Olivia. You miscarried 5 years ago. It ’ s time to let go, we talked about this. ” 

