short fiction · 2026-10-24

Corpus Callosum

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

The left hemisphere speaks in sentences. It counts, sequences, names the tools and lays them out in order. The right hemisphere speaks in weather — pressure dropping, a smell of rain, the shape of a face before it has a name. They share a bridge of two hundred million fibers, each one a whisper. Most days the traffic flows one way: the right feels the world, the left writes the report. But sometimes the left sends a question back — what if? — and the right answers with a picture, not a word. In the gap between them, a third voice rises, neither logic nor intuition, but the quiet that holds them both.