It's actually quite good.
“Imago? Not Tonight!”
“No, dear brother. Not tonight, not today, not ever,” she said in "the voice" reserved for such times.
His response was spontaneous and predictable. “Why not? It’s in the dictionary, isn’t it?”
“It’s not in my dictionary, nor any dictionary,” was the reply. She knew what was coming next.
“But it is in Papa’s dictionary, and it is a good word,” he pleaded.
She well remembered the dictionary Papa had frequently referenced. Words like lacuna, synchronicity, miasma, and other obscure creations of his imagination. The dictionary they never got to actually see themselves which was stored on the top shelf, just out of reach.
The fire in the stove had burned down somewhat, but the room was uncomfortably warm. The kettle, once full of water, was beginning to make a low noise, a sign it would need to be refilled soon. Outside, the storm dragged on, a harbinger of many more winter nights to come.
The pair sat across the board from one another. Suddenly she grew tired, but staring down at her pieces, she felt the excitement. Starting with the "o" she slowly arranged her pieces downward.
“Oscitate. Double letter, triple word, and out. Just like Papa!” she exclaimed.