(This little exchange took place when I was a kid.)
"The Devil cannot read your mind," Mom assured me. Her eyes widened, and her voice took on that sweet, Glenda the Good Witch tone. Like she was telling me there was a hot chocolate in the kitchen for me. Like, "Don’t forget your lunch!"
I leaned in but threw up a little in my mouth. Satan, she elaborated, has studied human behavior for millenia. He is a master at reading facial expressions and body language. If you are thinking about bad things it will show. "Satan," Mom warned, "will use this information against you."
I glanced in the mirror. Does that little lift to the corner of my mouth give away this morning’s masturbation? Satan, was it hot? Oh shit! Blank face! Blank face!
I walked her to the car still practicing my expressionless expression, wondering if I’d had the expression of thinking about being expressionless already, wasn’t the jig up?
Mom was late for Microbiology class.