Meeting, The Other

"I don't understand that sentence," she says, grinding the meeting, once again, to a halt. I am surprised at the rage that surges up from my chest into my head at her perfectly reasonable questions, but I keep my mouth shut and try to listen to what she has to say.

Later, as I look from person to person in the room, I realize that I am in there with three other people, who are real, and who have feelings and thoughts that I may never really know. A cold thrill threads its way through my gut, exhilarating and scary, and I find myself watching their hands, their faces, wondering at them, amazed at our being alive.