“What does that sign mean?” “Which?” I repeat Tim’s hand motion. It’s a fairly simple one—a fist with a pinky extended, motioned in a small circle around his chest. “Oh, that’s my name. My sign name.” “Sign name?” “It’s a special sign to identify someone,” Indy says, her hands continuing to move for her dad in the most beautifully elegant way. “That way we don’t need to spell out our entire names every time we speak. Not everyone has a sign name. My dad chooses who gets them and what their sign is.” She balls her hand, but her pinky stays straight up then rubs her hand in a small circle
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