When Syra was a young puella, she lived in the Roman city Roma. She mostly minded her own business - until the day she didn't.
As she ambulabant through the Roman streets, she noticed a single glis currebant in front of her. It was not strange to see a glis in the Roman streets, but Syra was startled. "O me miseram!" she inquit. "I hate gliris! Why do I deserve this? Why do I not follow this glis to where it is running?"
Syra started to follow the glis. The glis ran past a taberna, over a sella, and around Titus, who was drunk. "Why are you running, Syra?" inquit Titus.
"I am following this glis," said Syra, who had never met the homine before. "How do you know my name?"
"Come work for my sister in law," said Titus. "She nessecit an ancilla."
"I am not an ancilla," said Syra. "I am very nervous. I have never been an ancilla before." Her hands began tremere quod she was so nervous.
"Sorry, you're her ancilla now," said Titus.
"Okay," said Syra, and she was forever doomed to a life of being a slave woman with shaking mani.
The end.
VOCABULARY
puella - girl
Roma - Rome
ambulabant - was walking
glis - dormouse
O me miseram! - O miserable me!
inquit - said
currebant - was running
gliris - dormice
taberna - shop
sella - sedan chair
homine - man
necessit - needs
ancilla - slave woman
Syra - Syra
tremere - to tremble
quod - because
mani - hands