Disappearing Words

It's strange how snow will slow a city's pulse collectively. Pedestrians, cars and even boats seem to drift in time alongside collecting tufts of white. Inside buildings though, away from any icy influence, electricity still flows through our busy bodies. Especially if you're a journalist. There's always a story to be chasing and catching, or molding into a slightly more interesting scenario than it really is.

But today, there need be no trickery or conjuration of almost-illigetimate facts. Today a word disappeared; more than just a word, really, but an entire form of communication. I never realized how significant words are as symbols of expression until today, when everyone just seemed to forget one.

"That's a load of bullshit," Spence declared indignantly.

Spence is my editor. He's a hopeless skeptic, and any such assertion which debases what little foundation of belief he has is intolerable to him. He was literally almost driven crazy when one day I convinced him that unicorns do infact exist in regions of remote northern Canada. It took our newspaper director several pills of Xanax and an hour's speech on how immature my sense of humor is to settle him down and reallign his framework for reality, thus safeguarding (for a while, at least) Spence's sanity.

"No, seriously man," I continued. "It's gone, this word. It just disappeared."

"How does a word just disappear, Ryan?"

"I don't know, but I haven't heard it since last Wednesday, and I can tell it's important." That was an exageration. I've really only been able to tell its gone since today, but with hard-headed people like Spence, you have to make sure your facts are lucid, or he won't even pretend to believe you. "Like one of those words that's in almost any sentence," I continued. "I feel like there's a hole in my speech now everytime I talk, and in yours. In everybody's language there's a void."

"I suppose that it's a similar void to that which Unicorns used to feel, right?" Spence sneered.

He thinks he's insanely clever. Honestly, that sentence didn't even make sense to me. Maybe if it had that damn mystery word, it would have though.

"You know what? I believe you, Ryan. I actually do."

"Really?"

"Oh my God, yes! Seriously, yes! It just occured to me. Like a vision, I see so clearly what you're saying now."

Okay, this is too much enthusiasm. Skeptics don't ever get excited about anything.

"We need to put up posters, Ryan, flyers and classified ads right away. 'Have you seen this word?'"

"Okay. I'll see you later, Spence."

"If you see any more unicorns, snap a picture for me please."

It bothers me that he can't even tell he's making fun of himself. He was believing every word I said about unicorns, and now he mocks me as though I was the one who believed I saw one. He's lucky he's my editor.

"And save me a share of gold when you catch that pesky little lepricon, Ryan. Hey... Ryan... I'm serious. Tell Zeus I said hello."

Maybe I am crazy. Maybe not, but I'm going to figure out how a word just disappears...