Flash Fiction, a short story written in 100 words or less.
Sorrow. Anger. Elation.
I practice the faces in my mirror each morning, running through my repertoire.
Delight. Sympathy.
There are so many nuances, tweaks of the lips, slight narrowing or widening of the eyes. I practice hand gestures and body language too. It helps mask the disinterest in my gaze. No matter how often I practice if one knows to look deep into my eyes they will see the lack.
I have known for most of my life that I do not feel like others. The emotions are just not there.
I have no empathy.
This is why I practice.
The (Western) Canadian 