The handshake, February 2025 by Karen Penning
The orange man leans in, shoulders squared, papery hand extended. The puffy man leans in, shining like an otter, hairless hand extended. Palms press, fingers curl and grip, sweat mingles. It’s electric. There is heat, skin, bone, finger-pad flesh. Arms pump and cameras flash. Tighter. No – tighter. I’m the man! No, I’m the muzchina! Yes, oh yes, five seconds of unbroken eye contact and smug press-lipped smiles. It’s a bromance for the ages! Somewhere – Kyiv? Who even knows at this point? – a ballistic missile strike sends up a column of smoke.
Karen Penning lives in Sydney and works in communications for a not-for-profit. She has two teenagers and a toy cavoodle. This is her first attempt at flash fiction.