I have a habit of half-talking to myself when alone. That is, I will start talking to myself when alone, but I often won't finish the sentence because I know intellectually that I am alone, I am not speaking out loud to anyone who actually needs to hear this, and I know what I meant in my own head and therefore I don't really need to bother saying the rest of it.
Of course, now that Sara's in my head, she seems to have made a game out of finishing these trailed-off thoughts with whatever Mad Libs-style quip is the most amusing.
Celine: (Finishing up at work and getting ready to leave, a little late, and therefore the word I was thinking of was "Haste") All right, there. Let us make....
Sara: ... babies?
Celine: (Putting various stacks of boxes away) Okay, those ones are done. And the rest of these....
Sara: Are all I have to give.
This is a cross-posted entry that originated from https://kjorteo.dreamwidth.org/448840.html. Please leave all comments there; I am no longer actively maintaining my LiveJournal blogs.