They both lapsed into silence, each aware that they’d lost something which was building between them. Winter had set in around them, and there’ll be no spring.
Yet, just maybe, the rhythmic dance of communication is a substitute for and serves as a defence against intimacy. For as long as something happens, nothing can happen. The mutual acceptance of a period of transition then acquires new meaning, and once the vulnerability and uncertainty are overcome, lasting dialogue can flourish.
Or am I the fool?