She had the world’s worst poker face: her feelings floated across them like reflections on a still pond.

See not the face..but only the eyes, of the poker face.

The barber’s assistant asks if I am a Swede. An American? Not that either. A Russian? Well, then, what are you? I love to answer such nationalistically tinted questions with a steely silence, and to...

Libby wasn’t a big talker – Michelle and Debby seemed to hog all her words. She made pronouncements: I like ponies. I hate spaghetti. I hate you. Like her mother, she had no poker face....

I thought I was going to sweat five years before I’d feel like this.””I wanted it as much as you did. I’ve just got a hell of a poker face” I smiled, pressing my lips...