It didn’t matter that people still said some of them, cobbled to new, cheap definitions — new words, named for the old ones. They still bandied the sounds around, but the words themselves, their souls — they didn’t need them anymore. Soon they would die.
Maisie struggled to keep them alive.
The nurses at Golden Common Nursing Facility found it amusing. “Old fashioned,” Nurse Ruth called it with patronizing fondness.
Old ones go, it’s the way of the world, Maisie sometimes thought when she lay alone in her room, with only dying words buzzing weakly in her head for company. It’s futile to fight it. Yet Nurse Ruth’s condescension spurred her to keep using her words.
“How are you feeling today, Maisie dear?” Nurse Ruth trilled as she bustled in. Maisie just raised her eyebrows in response. Nurse Ruth never waited for replies anyway.
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