A Sinistral Mystery

He wrote. She looked.

She looked confused. Like seeing an M.C. Escher illusion for the first time. (Those drawings of impossible staircases and the drawing of two hands which are drawing each other).

She thought.

Asked, ‘are you left handed?’

But not like that. Asked it with a sing-song tone, like a radio jingle.

‘ARE you leFT HAAANDddddded?’

(They’re children, by the way).

He wrote.

What did he write?

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