A hand outstretched, in hopes of partnership to rebuild the lost: from a dissed utopia to a dystopia. Annexation of their civilization was just conservation. No one can make it alone anymore. Not him. Not them. But together, their survivability increased exponentially.
But his hand shook.
He was nervous. No, he was thirsty. He was hungry. They had run out of food that wasn’t radiated, outdated, or emaciated. They needed to be satiated.
Dirt rested in the creases of his palm. A thin layer of sweat coated his hand. Blisters were at the base of each finger.
And his hand shook.