“Please.” I twist the word in my mind, stretching it, arcing it, and wringing out every drop of meaning. I never thought I would be learning social skills at 31. I turn “please” and the other words in that sentence of my coworker’s email over and over in my head, playing them in different tones of voice, picturing what it might look like in person. Would her face look like it does when I know she’s happy? And what if I can’t decide what feeling I think is behind it?  I can’t always peer inside your mind the way other people can. Though not due to lack of empathy, identifying…