Watching a smile form on the face of a man with schizophrenia is akin to witnessing grey clouds at twilight slowly drift apart to reveal the silver glow of the winter moon.

That smile is a pleasant and wonderful surprise. I pause in wonder—

—and smile broadly in return.

I don’t think the smile actually forms at a slower rate, but in that moment, one might believe so: You can see the muscles of the face gracefully coordinate so that wrinkles blossom around the eyes just as the corners of the lips pull back towards the ears. Teeth (or spaces where teeth should be) appear and maybe—I’m pretty sure I saw it—the eyes sparkle.

Oh! How beautiful that smile is! Where there was previously little emotional expression there is now an image of mirth, amusement, happiness, joy—

—and there is connection! His smile races through my retinas and into my optic nerves; the image coalesces within my occipital cortex and through the miracle of cognitive processing, I don’t just see his smile, I recognize it—

—and, a blink later, I see the smile fading from his face…

… and the winter clouds creep back across the face of the moon, extinguishing the light that was just there.

Professions of people with whom I have danced (lindy hop):

• electrical engineer (Boeing)
• mechanical engineer (Boeing)
• steel worker
• accountant (Expedia)
• software engineer (Amazon)
• Navy military officers (2)
• emergency room physician
• pianist
• pilot
• customer service representative for a broadband internet company
• (many) computer engineers (Microsoft)
• ballroom dance teacher
• high school sophomore
• automobile mechanic
• owner of a franchise of a shipping company
• biophysicist
• music teacher
• psychiatrist
• animation art teacher
• owner of a small computer company
• computer operator for Lexis Nexis
• law professor
• lindy hop teacher
• lawyer
• statistician
• electrical engineers (2?)
• Alaskan fisherman
• theatre actor
• webmaster
• college students
• Army officer (captain?)
• internal medicine resident physician