“Hi, I’m Paul” he said, extending his hand.
I smiled nervously as we shook hands.
“May I see your handwriting?”, he then asked.
“Oh, sure”, I blurted out with curiosity.
I looked at him intently as he analyze my handwriting; his face serious and undisturbed,
while I study the features of his face carefully — a handsome man,
curious of what he might find on my strokes.
After a moment, he said his ‘verdict’ at last.
I just nod and try to look blank as possible,
pathetically hiding any sign of affirmation and confirmation,
trying not to look defensive and submissive at the same time.
He looked at me in the eye from time to time as if he’s reading my very soul.
I will never forget what he made me feel that moment —- uncomfortable, intimidated
but curious and eager at the same time to know this man
who happens to be the only man I’ve met who’s accurate at ‘analyzing’ me for the first time,
the fact that we are total strangers to each other.
In just a few words I wrote on a piece of paper,
a few strokes of my pen, he already knew my weaknesses,
what more if I gave him a paragraph or my journals.
And for meeting someone for the first time, which could also be the first and the last,
my weaknesses are the last thing I wanted for as an introduction.