"I'm sorry", he bellowed, over and over again while I became pale and still like a praying mantis who only has blind faith. This was deliberate communication, the kind that arrives in a furious wind from dreaming about aircrafts and velocity. I choked on words as I rummaged for the right tone of voice. I wasn't scared, no, I couldn't be. "Why? Why are you sorry? You haven't done any wrong." And he replied, "because I am living and you are not."
