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Once again, it was a brisk, fall morning, and she felt alive again. Only this time, it was different. The spark was late this year. The air didn't start to breath with her until it was nearly October. Nonetheless, she enjoyed the prolonged warmth that came with the extra days of a waning summer. However, on this particular day, she ran down her front porch steps and headed to her morning class. She rounded a corner and saw the fish-bowl school building sitting atop a nice, grassy knoll.  She tried to think of a more descriptive word for the hill than 'nice', but decided against it.
     "It's perfectly alright to call it 'nice', because I've already called it a 'knoll' and that's eloquent enough. We can't be too flowery with our language now, can we?"
She wasn't sure who she was talking to because she was alone. It didn't matter though, because just then, she looked down and saw the chilled fall breeze dance around her loose, purple shirt. She felt very bohemian.
Later that night, she sat in the new chair at the kitchen table, again by herself. She thought about how she preferred her old, busted chair, and a man she had seen who had two prosthetic legs.
     "That must be what it's like to not have words." she thought quietly to herself, "You must just feel broken inside, with no way to fix it because you don't have words."
She was saddened by the thought, and felt sorry for the broken man and the crippled chair. She didn't know if she would see the chair again, or where it went; probably to the dump, and there was nothing that poor chair could do about it. She knew she'd see the man again. She thought the next time she did, she might ask him how he'd feel if he didn't have words.