The Perfect Handshake
The cables may have been misconnected. Could blow the power amplifier. He says. Then a handshake, firm. It is memorable. A perfect handshake, caressing and embracing. He gets me.…

My box of assorted promotional pens. They puzzled me and I could not still my mind until I had reconstructed all the chains of events. I worked through the pens one by one and found myself one Tuesday at the Electrical Board in Haninge. They had an aquarium containing only butterfly cichlids. Take a seat, said the receptionist. On the table a ballpoint pen, though a different design to mine, later model. Is he here now? said a smiling voice behind me. Then a familiar face: What took you so long?
The cables may have been misconnected. Could blow the power amplifier. He says. Then a handshake, firm. It is memorable. A perfect handshake, caressing and embracing. He gets me.…
I hadn’t heard from you in many years when you made yourself known with a letter. It lay on the desk one Tuesday. You cleaned my office, you wrote. You really ought to have said…

The apartment actually burned down. After all her warnings about the gas, it caught fire. Just a small lapse, just a tiny spark. The bookshelf erupted in a veritable fireworks…