[ WP ] Describe a household object in a way that keeps the reader puzzled until you reveal what it is . The second time they read it , everything should fall into place .

*I've still got my wits*, Mr. Harrington considered as he sat in his comfy green chair, which was as usual leaned back as far as it cared to go. His sight had left him years ago, in his ears a constant ringing hummed at him, and his once five mile run was now down to a slow walk around the block of Jamie's house, but his wits, he considered were still with him. 
 
 He fiddled with the small block in his hand, afraid to look at it lest the spell be broken. This was one of his favorite games, the game of potential he'd called it in his head but had always been too shy to share with anyone else. 
 
 What was this thing? It was rectangular in shape, and plastic except one side which felt cool and smooth, like the handle of a butter knife. There were a few indents on one side, braille of a sort dotting the edges of what might be labels or buttons. He was relatively certain it was new, or at least a rare enough thing for Mr. Harrington to have stumbled across that he did n't use it regularly. 
 
 Was it edible? Did it play music? As long as he did n't look at it, it could be anything really. He considered realistically it was a remote for one of the dozens of gadgets that littered the living room where he sat. 
 
 His son Jamie had a penchant for the things which all had fancy names and did things that Mr. Harrington thought could be done just as well with the sort of things bought from a thrift shop that had littered Mr. Harrington's own house. 
 
 But this was not his house, this was Jamie's. Mr. Harrington was distracted from his thoughts by some fool who'd set off a car alarm outside. He continued pawing the thing with his hand, trying to push the noise from his mind, sliding his thumb across the metallic side and pressing on the various indentations without luck. 
 
 There was a sort of rough spot on the corner, but Mr. Harrington's calloused hands were not quite able to grip or adjust it however it adjusted, if it even adjusted he pondered. 
 
 He was distracted from his thoughts again by the front door. From the sounds of it Jamie was back, though he ought to have left for work a half hour ago. Mr. Harrington did n't open his eyes, fearful of being scolded for doing or not doing this or that thing that his son asked of him. Often these days it was just easier to pretend to be asleep than to engage with his son. 
 
 `` Dad have you seen my - what the HELL dad!'' 
 
 Jamie snatched the thing from his hands and stomped off muttering obscenities Mr. Harrington could not and did not care to work out. 
 
 He heard the garage door open followed by the screech of tires as Jamie drove off in a rush. 
 
 *Oh well*, Mr. Harrington pondered, *time for my walk. *
