Brick pile

He built his façade of lies, brick by brick, until he was ensconced behind an unscalable wall. Falling deeper and deeper into a tangled world of pseudologia fantastica, he dwelled where the bloom of a lie was more sweet to him than the perfume of the truth.

His fanciful tales grew more absurd with each telling, and the lies grew heavy on her mind. She could no longer tell whether he believed his fiction, or if he simply wouldn’t, or couldn’t, face reality.

She left before the bricks began to fall, his lies crumbling down, burying him under the rubble.