It felt something like this:
My tongue is in my fingertips and it abhors the keyboard's bitter zest. It's not possible to say how I feel or how I think you feel. I can't imagine because I haven't experienced. This isn't so much a conversation as a dance and not even a good kind of dance, having recently learned that there is such a thing, where at least one of the participants actually enjoys the movement. It was, more so, a dance of avoidance--a dance where the purpose was, in fact, to avoid moving too abruptly, to carefully step away from each other and on to more important ritualistic dances, to elevate the discourse such that it ceases. Because it's impossible to comprehend this rhythm. Because the tempo is much too fast to feel this remarkably slow. And because it's not a fad. Or the chicken dance. Or the electric slide.
And that's why I won't type, "I'm sorry..."