“My husband is driving me crazy.” Sally sat down on the Adirondack chair facing the morning sun, lifted her face to it, closed her eyes. “I just want to sit here and not talk.” I raised an eyebrow. “Did you have a nice visit to your mother-in-law’s house this weekend?” She opened an eye. “My husband and I rode home in two-and-a-half hours of stone silence.” “Ah,” I said. “Silence that speaks a thousand words. A form of dialogue in itself, which is what I wanted to talk to you about today.” “How is silence a form of dialogue?” “I’m certain you communicated, even if you didn’t use words, right?” She made a face. I laughed. “Great dialogue raises conflict and contains subtexting about the deeper issues of the story.” […]
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