Jane stares at the jumble of x’s and y’s and numbers and parentheses. There was something. ..Excuse My Sister Sally…she tries to recall it but it slips away, like the tail of a fish under water.
She’d breezed through the English placement, no problem. But how many years since her high school algebra? College entrance exams, at her age!
Really–you’d think if she stared hard enough at this typographic soup, it would be intimidated enough to rearrange itself into something that made sense.