A Logophile a Linguaphile and a Lexophile Sat Down In a Bar

A logophile sat on the bar stool stirring her words. She liked the soft ones, the hard ones, the salty ones. The sweet ones intrigued her, but she was a bit frightened. A linguaphile sat down on the next seat. He attempted to speak to her in French and Spanish. He delved into German, but she did not respond. He was quiet now. A lexophile was fascinated by the interchange. He took out his pen and wrote it up into glowing fancy words. They jumped off the pages and surrounded the bar fly’s seat. She looked down and laughed. The linguaphile laughed too. They found commonality in that at least.