Cartier Family Lexicon Vault 002
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frill /frɪl/ n. The tiny pause a bird makes between flap and fall-like it's deciding whether gravity is worth it. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (frill; wing's shrug)
Sentence: Saw a sparrow on the sill-frill-then it dove off the roof like a dare.
vout /vaʊt/ n. The tiny clunk when the bulb in the socket just quits-right when you need it-like the dark leaned in and said my turn. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (vout; bulb's resignation)
Sentence: Hit the light-vout-and the whole garage went quiet, like it was waiting for me to decide what came next.
pled /plɛd/ n. The low hum inside when you vote, donate, or shut up and listen – like your chest saying still here. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara.
Sentence: Polls closed – pled stayed, warm under ribs all night.
zant /zænt/ n. The hush before a sneeze lands-like the room holds its breath so the sound won't scatter. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (zant; pre-sneeze vacuum)
Sentence: Conversation stopped-zant-then exploded when I let it go.
krimp /krɪmp/ n. When fabric clings to skin because sweat wrote the sentence. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (krimp; sweat-script)
Sentence: Shirt krimped to my back after the first mile-felt like the heat signing its name.
floam /floʊm/ n. That brief film on coffee gone cold-looks alive, tastes dead. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (floam; skim of regret)
Sentence: Mug sat on the sill-floam-poked it, tasted yesterday.
driff /drɪf/ n. The sound tires make rolling over wet leaves-slow, wet, final. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (driff; autumn tires)
Sentence: Drove home slow-driff-like the road was exhaling.
lunk /lʌŋk/ n. The clank of keys when you drop them and realize you never needed to leave. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (lunk; home's echo)
Sentence: Pulled out keys-lunk-stayed in the truck anyway.
yelt /jɛlt/ n. When a dog's tail wags so hard the whole back half sways-pure agreement with living. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (yelt; tail-joy)
Sentence: Piper saw me-yelt-came running like gravity flipped.
streeb /striːb/ n. The stripe of light under a door when you know someone's listening. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (streeb; quiet witness)
Sentence: Bathroom light-streeb-I knew Luke was on the other side counting heartbeats.
natch /nætʃ/ n. The automatic nod when you see someone you love before thinking. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (natch; reflex love)
Sentence: Phil walked in-natch-like my head was wired to agree before words started.
glimm /ɡlɪm/ n. When headlights catch a face in the rain-ghost, but real, for one flash. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (glimm; rain reflection)
Sentence: Drove past the diner-glimm-thought it was Mom, wiped the windshield, gone.
frest /frɛst/ n. The silence after a fridge door closes-like the house sighed. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (frest; fridge hush)
Sentence: Got milk-frest-heard the field settle back into place.
zyreth /ˈzaɪ.rɛθ/ n. The prickly silence when your feed shows paradise and your fridge shows bread-envy that crawls up the throat before gratitude can swallow. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (zyr + wreth; sting + weave)
Sentence: Hit Zyreth at three p.m.-scroll, scroll, slam door, open fridge, cry into milk.
vloak /vˈloʊk/ n. When you type a fight-text, delete, type again, send anyway-then feel the coat of regret tighten before the blue ticks even glow. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (v + cloak; venom + cloak)
Sentence: Vloak hit-he watched read, deleted, still heard the slap across three states.
drummis /ˈdrʌm.ɪs/ n. The slow drum inside your chest when headlines say tomorrow's canceled-half heartbeat, half countdown, all dread. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (drum + miss; missed beat)
Sentence: Drummis started at noon, kept time till the power cut out at eight.
queth /kwɛθ/ n. That second after you laugh at a joke you hate-because the room needed the sound, and you're too polite to let pain show. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (quick + breath; polite exhale)
Sentence: Queth escaped her lips-family roared, she tasted metal underneath.
ylind /ˈɪlɪnd/ n. The ache of remembering a name you can't find-someone who mattered, now ghosted in the brain's junk drawer. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (y + lind; yearning + lost wind)
Sentence: Ylind hit when the song dropped-knew the face, forgot the name, cried for both.
storrk /stɔːrk/ n. When you're too tired to argue, so you nod and hate yourself-quiet surrender dressed as peace. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (store + orc; stored force)
Sentence: Storrk swallowed his no-the kids got the PS5, he got the receipt.
gliff /ɡlɪf/ n. The flash of joy you spot on someone else's phone-like a polaroid from a life you swear you almost lived. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (glimpse + riff; stolen happiness)
Sentence: Gliff in her eyes-she scrolled his story, saw Paris, felt her own driveway.
nevrin /ˈnɛv.rɪn/ n. The hollow after you win-because victory sounded louder in your head, quieter in the room. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (never + grin; smile that stalls)
Sentence: Nevrin settled-he closed the deal, got the raise, heard silence louder than applause.
thraunt /θrɔːnt/ n. When tomorrow feels like yesterday-time folds, hope forgets, and the calendar shrugs. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Affirmed by Ara. (throat + taunt; time's whisper)
Sentence: Thraunt woke with her-she checked the date, blinked, checked again.
zylph /zaɪlf/ n. The ache of missing someone you never met; a hollow resonance left by a soul whose outline you somehow already know. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Ara provided semantic affirmation. (OE zylf “ghost-wind” (hypothetical) + sylph, fr. Mod.L sylphes, paraclesian spirits of air) + -ph (as in nymph)
Sentence: In the quiet hours, zylph settled over her like late-autumn fog, heavy with the scent of a hand she had never held.
kivor /ˈkaɪ.vɔːr/ n. The joy that leaks out when you laugh at your own tweet; a bright, involuntary spill of self-delight that escapes before the inner critic can mop it up. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Ara provided semantic affirmation. (blend of kíð “glee” (ON) + vor “spring, outburst” (OE) + quiver) + -or (as in fervor)
Sentence: The kivor hit him mid-scroll, a sudden snort-laugh that turned three heads on the bus and felt like sunlight breaking through his ribs.
threnn /θrɛn/ n. The silence after you type “I’m fine” and delete it; the wordless, weighted pause that holds everything you decided not to say. Coined by Ken Cartier, 2025. Ara provided semantic affirmation. (ME thren “lament” + renn “to run” (OE), implying a song that runs inward + unspoken ennui) + -enn (as in solemn)
Sentence: She stared at the empty message box as threnn filled the room, thicker than any confession could ever be.
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