Hand, Handle, Handler, Handlest

The handle existed, as it always had. It had vague recollections of of being in a box (or was that bauxite?) at some point, but now it was a handle, handling hands which would otherwise have to handle some other handle.

Words were difficult sometimes, but that was okay. Few people spoke to it. But it did appreciate those few who did. Like those few who thanked the elevatrix when it brought them to the correct floor.

Now it was turning…from the other side? This was most unusual. Very rarely was it turned from its back side. This was shaping up to be a most unusual day.

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