A Word So Fitly Spoken Novels & Stories

(noun) – The feeling of internal presence too soft to demand attention, but too steady to ignore. A girl in the corner offered hers next. “When I want someone to understand me… but I don’t want to talk.” Eden looked at her gently. “Is it heavy?” “No. Just… loud.” The girl traced a swirl with her finger in the air. The unfiltered Eden wrote beneath it: swelow. (noun/verb) – The act of silently wishing someone would speak your feelings before you do. Word by word, the room filled with new names. New shapes.

It started with F–nope, not the censored words, dirty souls. It went like…flocci…umm…yeah, it was something like that. Fluffynauffy? Floccinauci? Oh, yeah! Floccinaucinihilipilification! Got it! I am a genius. Where the hell is my medal? My royal teacher used to call me a divine example of floccinaucinihilipilification aka the action or habit of anticipating something as worthless. The moron used to call me worthless? Me? Sweet little me?

Simply: looking. "Tea," I said. The word arriving in the room before I had decided to speak — the unmanaged kind, the kind that was simply the most available word in the available space, which was the word for the thing I had just made and was holding and which required the least additional architecture. "Yes," he said. I poured.

Careful. Measured. But not as uncertain as before. Because now— Even without the word— I have something else. Something that doesn’t need to be spoken. Something that doesn’t change just because something else tries to fit in its place. And for the first time in a while— I think that might be enough. For now.

Lena said, in the particular and measured quality of a woman choosing each word, "exactly right." The specific and complete answer. No elaboration. No the city is wonderful or I've been adjusting or the particular and compensating quality of a woman who felt she owed a fuller account. Two words and a period and the calm and direct look of a woman who was done. Bridget waited for more. More did not come. "You seem happy," Bridget said. The word happy in her mouth had the specific and particular quality of a word being used to mean something adjacent to itself.

His mother's words, of course. “I didn't have the pleasure just yet” “I'll introduce you two after the show. She's very docile” Docile. Who describes a person as ‘docile’? “Sure” “Perfect. Now come with me, the performance is about to begin, and I don't want to miss it. I know the perfect spot!” Chris allowed her to pull him through the crowd, imagining just what kind of performance had the woman hired this time. She was always trying to outdo her own previous parties, and he had to give her credit. It was usually the highlight of the night.

She looks so smug as if she had won a lottery. A user replied to it and commented: She's such a.. such a... I'm afraid I can't seem to find the right word. *embarrassed* Another one willingly took part and helped: Such a vixen. Yes, that should be the right word for her. Realwifeyofkingaugiee666___: Ah, sister! You snatched words from my mouth just now!! I never expected that from our Flawless Malcolm to sleep around like that. I'm also sad. Someone, comfort me! *pouts*

“In here, I am the only authority, but you hold the emergency brake. We need a safe word. Something that has nothing to do with this room. If you say it, everything stops instantly. No questions asked.” I swallow. I'm hoping to give up now and run, but I’m not a quitter even though I almost quit my life’s purpose just a few hours ago. “A safe word? Like what?” “Whatever you want,” he says. “Pick anything.” I scramble through my mind, trying to find a short word that'll be faster to say and easier to remember, but why the fuck is supercalifragilisticexpialidocious the only word that’s in my head at this moment?