"Okay." Her voice is careful now. Gentle. The kind of gentle you use on wounded things. "Maybe we skip smiling for now. Work up to it. What else can you do? Eye contact? That's good, right? You're good at eye contact?"
I nod. Eye contact I can manage.
"Handshakes?" She's grasping now. Looking for anything that might work. "Do you know how to shake hands?"
"I know how to shake hands." I'm not completely without social graces. I've been in this world long enough to learn the basics.
"Show me."
I stand. The chair scrapes against the floor. I extend my hand. Palm out. Fingers straight. Just like I've seen humans do a thousand times.
She takes it. Her hand disappears into mine. Small. Fragile. Warm.
I grip. Squeeze. Firm. Confident. The way a handshake is supposed to feel.
Her face drains of color. Goes white as bone. "Ow, ow, ow, stop, stop?—"
I release her like she's caught fire. Like her skin has burned me. "Sorry. Sorry. I didn't mean?—"
"It's fine. Just. Lighter. Like you're holding an egg. A very fragile egg that you don't want to crush into dust."
We try again. This time I barely squeeze at all.
"Better," she says. Flexes her fingers. "Though maybe a touch firmer. Middle ground between bone-crushing and dead fish."
I have no idea what a dead fish handshake feels like, but I adjust anyway.
"There," she says. "Perfect. See? You're learning."
The praise shouldn't feel as good as it does. Warm. Solid. Like something I can hold onto.
"What else?" I ask.
"Small talk. Can you do small talk?"
"What's small talk?"
She blinks. "Conversation. Light. Easy. Weather, hobbies, weekend plans. That kind of thing."
"Why would I talk about weather? Everyone knows what weather is. They're standing in it."
"It's not about the weather. It's about being friendly. Approachable. Building rapport."
The words sound foreign. Like she's speaking a language I never learned.
"Pretend I'm a customer," she says. "You're at the counter. I walk in. What do you say?"
I think. "Do you want coffee?"
"No. I mean, yes, but that's not small talk. That's just taking an order."
"What else is there?"
She sighs. Rubs her temples. "Okay. Let's try this. I walk in. You say, 'Good morning. How are you today?'"
I repeat the words slowly, testing each one on my tongue. "Good morning. How are you today."
The sentence falls flat. Dead air between us.
