The expression on my fathers face reminded me of a terrible sentence written on a white sheet of paper, that horrible look in his eyes, the exclamation point. Never in my fourteen years had I seen my father look like that. He had the appearance of a man who had just suffered some great offense and was now biting back fury, he could, for perhaps only a few seconds longer contain. He had (just an instant earlier) burst through the door of our small country home and was now just standing there (his hand still on the doorknob), staring at his family as if he didn’t know who we were. In that instant I felt the same way towards him. More...