THE DIPLOMAT: The Apology

“What happened to your hand, Jerson?”

Jerson stared at his right hand and saw that it was trembling. His tie didn’t stop the prod’s electricity from running through his hand’s vein. It was foolish of him to believe that if he warped his hand with silk, it could lessen the pain and would stop his hand from trembling. Although he knows it wouldn't, there was no harm in trying.

Jerson shrugged his shoulders before looking at Van. “This is nothing. I won't die from something so trivial like this.”

Van grabbed his hand. “If you leave it like that, you might suffer from the aftermath effect of the prod. You might not feel it now but in later years. It might worsen if we don't give it extra attention.”

Jerson laughed humorously. “You know how to treat this?”

Van stopped halfway from taking off the necktie that was tangled around Jerson’s hand and thought about the aiding lesson he had learned in his senior years. Later, Van shook his head. “I