“This is what honesty gets you, is it?” he thought to himself as the rain poured down on him and plastered his hair to his head.
He was lucky, he supposed, that they were near the bus-stop when she asked him that fateful question. He hoped the were still running. If they weren’t, he’d be facing a long walk home.
If she didn’t want to hear it, why had she asked? He didn’t think he’d ever understand women.
All he knew was, next time someone asked if what they were wearing made them look fat, he was going to lie.