I had my right hand extended, waiting for you to shake it. You stared at it for so long, hesitant for reasons not known. Maybe my hand was dirty, maybe yours was regal. Maybe you just didn’t want to, or maybe you refused to know who I am.
You stared at it for a little bit more and I waited.
You stared at it for a little bit and a little bit… until I lost every ounce of the very little patience I had. There was no hand for mine to shake so I just stared at you for the last time.
You never gave me a chance.