Hands: A Story

“You, Serge, are an intellectual, and you’re polite, we all know that. That’s why you keep quiet and don’t ask any questions. But our boys from the factory, they ask right away. ‘Well, Vaska,’ they say, ‘so you got drunk till you got the shakes?’ They mean my hands. Don’t kid yourself, I saw how you looked at them and turned your head away. Even now, you’re still looking at me so as not to see my hands. Don’t worry, brother, I understand—you do this to spare my feelings, so I don’t feel embarrassed and ashamed. Well, look, look all you want. It’s all the same to me. I won’t get offended. After all, it’s a sight you don’t see every day. Only ...