He was brilliant in conversations that never took place.
Walking home, standing in the shower, staring out of bus windows—he replayed every unfinished sentence until it sounded exactly right. In his imagination he was calm, funny, thoughtful. He always remembered the perfect comeback about three hours too late.
Sometimes the conversations were apologies.
Sometimes they were confessions.
Sometimes they were arguments with people who had long since forgotten there had ever been one.
He wasn't afraid of speaking.
He was afraid of getting it wrong.
So he rehearsed. Again. And again.
Until the moment passed, and the conversation no longer needed him.
— Observed behaviour: Fluent in imaginary dialogue. Frequently interrupted by reality.