I’ve been on a business trip; nothing particularly mysterious there, but that was before I took a shower.
The condensation fogged the bathroom mirror, and as I looked at it I saw the ghosts of old writing, two letters, one number – SW3.
The writer in me immediately wanted to know the story – my first thought was that it was something to do with London postcodes, but I’m in Glasgow. SW3 covers Chelsea, so if there’s an obscure Glasgow-Chelsea connection, please let me know.
But maybe it’s a design thing, or an iconographic game. SW3 isn’t a palindrome but it almost looks like one, and that summons up images of codes and cryptographic symbols. Maybe Templars or ninjas had stayed there before me. Maybe the Holy Grail was in the room with me. Maybe I should have looked under the bed.
Or it could have been a reference code for something. A mysterious experiment, a strain of super-flu, artificial intelligence or the dewey number of the alien files.
Perhaps it was a clue to some crime, and maybe a criminal has now escaped justice because I wasn’t sharp enough to figure out the hidden connections behind a Moriarty’s thought processes or a victim’s delirium.
It’s even possible that it explained, somehow, why my journey home has been a nightmare.
Heck, maybe it was nothing. And I’ve only just walked through the door of my house so I’m not thinking much of anything.
But admit it, you’re as intrigued as I am…
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