Roomiers

Sometimes–no, I can't bring sometimes here. Let us say tenant history always stays where we put it personally. It is too personal. It might also be coincidence, but I am not one to believe coincidence, so I am the only one.


Naturally, this is how our fin de siècle adores its own appeal. It is the best perfect age emptied right.


Or does my brownstone make me worrisome?


Worried people, like me together with him, could be further pedantic. This happens by compliments from him handing over fountain pens (I was doing so well!). Consider if I faint with his clipboard: Oh, he will hem, call my office again tomorrow morning. I think he hems wonderfully, and sputters, too. He makes a cozy parlor while I tug at his better leg. And he doesn't mind his tie plastered with restoration particles.


I can tell you they ask me not to brush them off. I need more familiarity with parlor etiquette. I do converse about pristine ambience, however, and it will not appear unbecoming for awhile.


This particular space is all about a Victorian ceiling fan, I try his seedy patience. Backdrops where neighbors suit themselves are featured. Freshly lacquered wooden floors. Impressionable appraisals. All this candor.


Initial disclosure: The other end of the hallway is where I may grow a bit roomier at him.



A Verbosity He

First person:"An I accused–by a you–deliberate sharing this vernacular, as if!" And plurified wordage overspreads. The I trying a conditionalized be–a myself or–who shut up already shut up. That is when the too urging struck a she. The now not turned successful at her very least all.


Second person:"A habitation for a he!" On-timed him the direct objections arriving disprecise for second person personally so."(Nothing exact unless a she) leaving for return and not a he made himself." Whereas a me picked a you over infinitives or whatever?"Spilt," those say. A they keeps say for later.


Third person: As converse messy to the impasse,"A you created an I out of an it," it thinks maybe, just maybe. Like this first person how has not has-been a myself since second person guessed. An I started using at singlified wordage–only with an a–until a you never yessed the third person without a.

Ekleksographia:
Wave 4.1.c

August, 2010

Fiction

Forrest Roth

Forrest Roth is the author of a novella, Line and Pause (BlazeVOX Books), and his shorter fictions have appeared in NOON, Denver Quarterly, Quick Fiction, Sleepingfish, Caketrain, elimae, Locus Novus, and other journals. He is currently a Ph.D. student at the University of Louisiana-Lafayette.