They had practiced cursive every day together before the stroke, his crinkled hands gently guiding the child's chubby fingers. When he came home finally from the hospital, the child sat outside his room with ink and paper and refused to listen when his parents said he'd need a different tutor, and they thought he didn't understand what had happened.
But then every day after, he was in his grandfather's room, impatiently guiding his grandfather's stiff hands to form the elegant sloping forms of the letters they had studied together for so long.
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