I don't often know what my expression is, what it looks like. I think of dad, his expressions seemed canned, there were just a few, maybe unconscious ones, but sometimes you might catch him between the stock expressions, in a fleeting moment, expressing something inscrutable going on inside. I look at my face and try out some expressions, wondering how in the world I can express how I feel. Maybe no matter how our expression appears, consciousness, or unconsciousness shows through. Dad had this one face that was quizzical yet evasive. His composure felt so discomposed. I don't know why I start thinking about dad. I imagine dad looking at this face and saying or thinking, with eyebrow raised, What a sadsack, is that my kid?