I never thought this would actually happen, but here it was...yet it wasn't. It was like I was watching myself on an old movie screen, the projector sometimes skipping, sometimes sticking on the frames. Everything was black and white, the colors not even there. The rain drowned out the roars of the nearby highway. The only sounds were the echoes of my voice and hers, and the relentless hurdling raindrops striking the asphalt. For this moment, nothing existed, nothing but this black-and-white movie of me and of her in the parking lot. She asked me something. "...wha...think now?" The echoes mingling with the rain, I...the me in this movie, was left floundering. What was the right answer? What was the truth? Which should I tell? It was like this person I no longer knew was dumping his emotional quandaries to me. Thanks a lot, I can't do anything with them. Whatever he answered, I was not able to hear. She and the bursting clouds were the only ones meant to hear his words. Whatever he said, he felt it was wrong; his pulse quickened considerably. She averted his gaze, thinking. There was a strange bitterness on her face I could not comprehend, but I knew she was upset. The drained and the stuttering of the projector drowned out her voice. The frame froze. There she was, pretty and distressed. There he was, his face not visible to the likes of me. The whole thing was a silent movie without captions, his emotions surging through me, his anxious and despairing questions crashing and colliding in my mind. This guy was probably an idiot. I didn't care what the man wanted to do; he didn't do it. I didn't care about his feelings, or that he was helplessly lost, because he was not accepting my counsel. Why ask if you don't listen, I figured. I snapped from my reverie; the scene had progressed. She was now waving her hand, her face exasperated and pained. Just from her one extended hand, I knew she was questioning. What was she to do? And what was he to do? The rain could now be mistaken for the projector's noises. He still said nothing, his figure remaining motionless. She waited until she blended into the downpour, but no answer came to her question. Resignedly, her questioning hand fell back to her side, her face an enigmatic sadness. Now his emotions were echoing, now something inside him became hollow. Now as she began to turn, the film stuttered, the frame of her just as she turned frozen in front of my face. No more emotions flooded me. I got up from my little observer's chair and examined the screen, her face on it. Something about her eyes also made me feel hollow. I gazed intently at her, until I noticed something I had not noticed before: she was crying. His emotions...my emotions...flooded me, and I was no longer able to wade through all of them. I slipped and slid along them, the movie vanishing from sight. The projector's clicking faded from my ears, the intensity of the emotions overtaking all of my sense. I could feel pain, see passion, smell despair. And then the sound came; this sound was a rushing noise, unlike anything I'd ever felt before. As the rain began to herald its presence, my confusion disappeared. The rushing noise...I was hearing realization. All of a sudden, I was him in the movie. The projector spluttered, the frame skipped, came back, then went blank. This was me. I was no movie, my life something to be experienced, not watched. My eyes were closed, and a raindrop struck my cheek. As I felt a prick of warmth, I realized I was also crying. My eyes snapped open. My hands were not shades of gray. My clothes were soaked, the parking lot a messy watercolor painting. There she was; her denim jacket drenched, her golden hair wet, her tear still falling on the ground as she walked away. I had sat in the chair, shouting advice and making comments, and resented the guy in the movie for not listening to me. Now I knew...he didn't listen to me because I didn't listen. So NOW...not just a minute ago, not a stupid narration of the past...now I stride toward her with more meaning in my stride than I've ever had in my life, more compassion than I ever felt capable of having, and a tear in my eye. Now I gently say her name and grasp her sopping shoulder. She stops, breathes a short sigh. My heart pounds. And now I say the words meant only for her and for the rain to hear, the hollowness no longer there. She grabs my hand and turns around. Her eyes are more blue than any sky, more beautiful than any water. I gently touch her cheek, wiping the tear from it. I can tell there are tears on my face, because the heat is searing my numbed face. With a small smile, she reaches forward and wipes them from my face. And now we kiss softly, briefly, but meaningfully. I couldn't believe I was there to know that that actually happened. I couldn't believe that minutes later I was walking her to her car, then walking home myself. I didn't believe it was happening; when it was over, I threw out the projector.