Merriam Webster is like my next door neighbor that I borrow sugar from ever once in a while. I knock at her door (typing) and we stand at the entrance of the foyer. I ask her how her day is going (checking the linguistic trends). She tells me about her family and what they’ve been developing in their lives. Then, I ask her for the favor of lending me some sugar (a word or two). She “looks me up” and down and says that she doesn’t do this for just anyone. She wants to know a few things about me, like how to call me later in case she wants something in return. I ask for her forgiveness. I explain that I am a baker and that I must use the sugar for croissants, strudel, and birnbrot for a banquet hall that I work for tirelessly each day. She replies, “It sounds like you’re going to need a lot of sugar!” I tell her that I have just about all of the other ingredients, and that on this particular occasion I’ll just need two cups of the sweet stuff. She suggests a substitute, because too much sugar will rot my teeth. (I decide to use the thesaurus with an attempt to ameliorate while keeping the meaning.) Next, it seems that she is also skeptical of my lack of need. She knows that I’ll be back soon, so I think of a reminder not to be a mooch, yet I don’t reveal any further reassurance. A phone call suddenly slaps my ear (unwanted ads), and she hurries me out of the foyer with closing pleasantries as she finishes wrapping the sugar jar with bags and cushions so I don’t accidentally crack the glass (a faux pas of poor manner, body language and tone).
Then, I face the weather-worn street which wears splits and cavities and before I depart I take a moment to look down at my shoes and contemplate. Not long afterward, I decide to fill the gaps in the street with the cushioning that my kind neighbor provided. I suck in a slow deep breath and venture away.