Hey--How are ya?

He smiled but it didn't seem to touch his eyes. His mouth paid lip service for what his soul could not feel, for that kind of smile--the kind that cracks the paint on the frame around your soul's windows--has to be meant. That kind of smile is almost impossible to fake but no one's ever looking hard enough to notice. We see the curvature of the lips, get caught up in the facade, suspend our disbelief and continue with our regularly scheduled programming because we don't care if he means it or not. We're not looking for honesty when we ask "how are you?"