The Sociopath

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.