Day Thirty-Four: Handshake
She reaches forward to shake his hand. He is reluctant, but he opens his palm to hers and raises his gaze. Their eyes meet and the muscles of their arms tighten as they reverse their grip, thumb clasping thumb, like a hand up the mountain, and reverse again, smiling.
“I didn’t expect to see you here.”
He looks away across the airy room, full of labelled people balancing cups on saucers, leaning into one another, their faces full of words, listening for gaps to pour them into. The floor length windows open to the sea which pounds with elegant indifference…