She passes on boxes of gossip, shiny and gift wrapped, but completely empty. Underneath her bed she keeps a voodoo army of everyone she knows; she acts out in miniature the knots she'll later tie into the social fabric. A narrative of sorts; seeds neatly planted in the other's mind. "I don't lie, I play tricks". She likes to play tricks because it's fun.

In the fourth grade she told her teacher that she didn't do her homework as her father had had a heart attack (he hadn't).

Over time, habits persisted and lies spawned until her world became a spider's thick web. They poisoned her relationships. They grew like a filthy deposit, sticking between her fingers and everything she touched.

At age 22, she added what would become her final lie to the pile, which instigated an avalanche, crushing her to death.