one word [liar]
(ref: here ) The word pounded under his skull like a newly-inked tattoo; sure everyone could see the label, everyone for two thousand miles, Jake left for the bus. Waiting at the stop felt the same; some part of him treasured and accepted the wait as part of the perpetual payment on the guilt that would not release him. Waiting allowed him to hide from himself; instead of being someone, he became just someone waiting for the bus. The bus came too soon. Pulling up and brakes squeaking, the door unfolded; the grizzled bus driver sneared boredly waiting for Jake to step. Grabbing the hand rails, Jake paid and picked one of the free seats near the back exit. At every stop, Jake looked away from the door, knowing that each person would stare at him, at his label, knowing that he could do nothing to remove the shame. Pulling away from each step, Jake was certain he saw the bus driver look at him from the rear-view mirror; in fact, he was even more certain he'd seen the driver...