Find something that is clearly a lie

[Italics = requests, ideas and conversations with others. Plus things overheard.]

Harriet pants. She is not at her healthiest. This is not the time of her life. The woman in scarves dumped her in the doorway of Paperchase, and said she had ruined her day. 

"You made mine!" she called to the back of the woman's head.

Three pairs of skinny jeans help Harriet to her feet, walk her up the stairs, and deposit her into a booth in Tindersticks, the cafe. 

"Chicken soup like mother never made, canapes of fig and other delights."

"A lunchbox you eat for your dinner."

"Octopus?"

"Something that shows off your olive oil?"

The people at the next table are brainstorming food for an upcoming party.

"So the vegetarians get breadsticks?"

"That's all they deserve!"

Hazza, let's call her that now, is given a sympathy cup of tea by one of the pairs of jeans, and left alone at the table.

She thinks of the biggest lie she's ever been told. And then the smallest.

First the former. That the 'open' button on the tube is necessary and must be pressed before the doors release. She spent her twenties pushing the button. Even when she knew it no longer functioned, she had a compulsive habit to press it. She liked the reaction from seasoned commuters. Pah, they would say. Idiot, they muttered. But it was they who were Pah idiots, because she really did know, but she did it anyway. Suckers.

The biggest? Well..