Autological.

She feels the contours of the word with her tongue, tracing its outline. It is smooth, oval like a river stone and tastes poisonous. The sensation fills her mouth and slides down her throat into the cavity where she creates feelings of love and hate and fear. She trembles like a bee with wet wings drawn towards absence and evolves the courage to say the word out loud. "Hippopotomonstrosesquipedalian," she announces.