The Grammar Incident

She laughed at my wording.

Predictable.

“Why do you talk like that?” she asked.

“Like what?” I replied.

“Old. Weird.”

I smiled.

“Would you prefer to correct me?”

“Yes.”

“Please do.”

She tried.

Confidently.

Incorrectly.

I allowed it.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Each correction was worse than the last.

Each explanation more flawed.

Others noticed.

Whispered.

Watched.

She doubled down.

Naturally.

By the end, she had constructed an argument so thoroughly incorrect it collapsed under its own weight.

I closed my book.

“Language,” I said softly, “is a tool.”

I paused.

“It should be used with care.”

She said nothing.

For once.

Later, Lena laughed.

“That was cruel.”

“No,” I said.

“It was educational.”

And far more effective