We fight with imaginary speech bubbles. It saves breath and energy and an awful lot of misunderstanding. It saves us from saying the wrong things. It saves us from taking things out of context. It saves us from saying sorry.
It’s our way of letting out steam, imagining clouds on top of our heads. I fill his, he fills mine.
We give each other made up words, and then forget all about them. It’s therapeutic. It’s us.