I practiced in the mirror before I left

I practiced in the mirror before I left,

firm grip, eye contact, the right amount of time.

I thought I had it down, had the form and the line.

But when I sat down across from them,

my palm was already damp and weak.

I could feel the strength leaking away.

Their handshake came back firm and fast,

the kind that tells you they've decided

before you've even started to speak.

I held on a quarter-second too long,

trying to prove something through my grip—

that I was strong, that I belonged.

When I pulled my hand back and saw their face,

I knew what they'd already figured out.

The sweat had done all the work.