paraph

Reginald Augustus Gaylord Huntington the Eighteenth approached the end of his signature with some trepidation. The paraph was coming up... and it was no idle adornment. It went well beyond mere decoration and pushed, imbued with generations of steadfast Huntington determination, well into the realm of utility, of challenge, some would say paranoia, even. Transmitted from father to son for centuries, wrestled from the very foundations of Anglo-Saxon literacy, it bloomed and billowed, surged, heaved and obliterated all that was not pure iron Huntington will. It wracked lesser nerves, spasmed lesser hands and snaked up trembling arms to cow lesser hearts. Reginald breathed deeply, relaxed into the weight of the pure gold pen and became the Paraph...