A Short story

Language
By Phaea Crede

I was oblivious to how much I used the word “okay” until my toddler started saying it constantly. “Okay,” we’d both declare before tackling the dishes or making lunch, before rearranging train tracks or chunks of clay. We’d say it with a pointedness that suggested the task ahead of us was a pain in the ass, and we slightly resented having to do it. “We need a new word.” I told him while folding a mound of laundry. “Goddamn it.” He replied, not looking up from his trucks. “Jesus Christ.”