- Their fingers couldn't seem to fit right. It felt like forcing together a couple of mismatched puzzle pieces.
- I fell in love with his hands. They were doors to me, not to the man he appeared to be but to the man he was.
- His handshake made her feel damp and nervous, like a child who'd just wet the bed.
- If her handshake had been a warning, his was a threat. If she was the Godfather, he was the bouncer with muscle and adrenalin to spare.
- The first thing I disliked was her handshake. She wobbled and clenched like a rat on ecstasy.
- They were two skittish horses, nosing each other out, their hands touching for a bare second and then shying away
- The grip of his hand was like coming home. .
- The woman's cold, knotted hands twined around his, like the twisted roots of a tree gripping frost-cracked rocks.
- He took my hand in both of his, clasping it as if he were saving me from something. Like a benevolent uncle. A benevolent uncle who was trying to buy my vote.
- I stuck out my hand. "Hey, Melinda! Fancy meeting you here." The hand hovered in midair, half a handshake, a symbol of—something. Maybe the reason we'd never been more than friends.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Ten Handshakes
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