The photograph he was being shown was clearly of him, his full-on face, but he couldn’t recognize himself in that unruffled all-knowing look — with its slight raise of an eyebrow.  It had been snapped at a dinner in a moment of feeling terrorized by the woman whose hair filled the lower foreground of the photograph.  She was going to move to another country, to start a business, meet a man, build both business and relationship for the one child she would have, and would then give back for being given all she had wanted.  Her life’s arc would bend to her will, and she believed it.  In fact, believing it was crucial to making it happen.  He recalled thinking she had powers true for her that in him felt false.  He never could muster the necessary belief.  He considered it a lack in him, and often cowered from the certainty of believers, but he could see that the photograph had caught him expressing an altogether different response — which he now had to catch up to.