I can read everyone's microexpressions.
When the killer put on an act at the police station, I watched his twitching eye and smiled.
"Your story is moving, but your microexpressions say three words:"
"I'm laughing."
He suddenly pulled a knife and pressed it to my throat. "Can you tell what I'm thinking now?"
I calmly wiped the blood splattered across my face.
"That you want to silence me."
"Too bad. Your microexpressions also say something else:"
"Your accomplice is raising a gun right behind you."
