Everything happens in slow motion around me. Just like you would see in the movies.

I can hear the car making its way towards my still form. The way the rocks tremble beneath the power of the wheels. The sound of the radio blasting within it as a clueless driver nods his head off beat. I can feel the cool breeze of his A/C blowing, circulating the smell of cigarettes throughout his vinyl. It is almost as if i am inside the car with him instead of out on the street preparing for my death. Most of all though, I can feel his anger forcing him to push down harder upon the peddle. Something has caused his fury this day, something small or large but enough to burrow inside his skin and taint his heart. Tears won't fall from his face, instead his blood boils under his flesh. I am sensitive to the feelings of others, and his anger burns me. The rocks beneath me begin to feel hot, like coal fresh from a fire. My eyes close against such a feeling and other feelings attack me from all angles.

The feeling of lust leaking from the window of the apartments to my left. She is confusing her emotions, believing he draws love from her. But i know this feeling, it is lust, dirtier, steamier, raunchy. The feeling of love is light, like a gentle kiss on a forehead or the brightening of a gaze upon seeing each other. No, her feeling is heavy, a sick drag of toxic want that swirls with the anger from the driver and makes my stomach churn.

The feeling of loneliness breaks through. He's on his fourth bottle now and as the tv blares in another room i can feel him. There is a dark smoky feeling that follows when one is lonely. Like a suffocating haze that threatens to take your life and yet, you'd want it to. My ears deceive me and i cannot hear what show he is watching, but it fuels his lonely heart. This is not the loneliness of a relationship, but of a true loved one, a family member. I can tell, it is richer, deeper, a permanent scar that, in time, will fade but will always remain. The loneliness of a lover is different, temporary like a rash that eventually turns into nothing more than a memory. Either way, i do not wish to feel this anymore.

The car is near, i could easily get up. I open one eye gently to glance down at my feet. The lights bore into me and i hastily close my eye again; another sigh.

And then.

Concern. The feeling washes over me in a wave like a cooling blanket. It blocks out the emotions of others and smooths the edges of my furrowed brows. Someone worries for my safety, little do they know they might be the cause of my demise. See... i was going to get up, carry on with my night but then their ever present feeling of concern created a nostalgia over me. For once, it was a feeling i wished to bask in, to lay in and absorb. The feeling of concern is a simple one; cool like the waters and slow, steady. It is not like worry that has a deep green ick to it. It is not like apprehension that carries itself in a red undertone. Concern is blue, a delicate gentle blue that falls off of angels wings and into our hearts.

So, because of this random's emotion, i was trapped as the car sped towards my meditating body.

"STOP!" his voice bellows before me and my eyes shoot open, body lurching forward as i curl my legs up to pull away. In defense, as if this will do anything, i lift an arm attempting to block the man out more than the car. My lungs don't feel like they are getting enough air and i heave with the effort of breathing. I was in a dreamlike state and this man had woken me.I watch warily, attempting to gather myself and yet never given the chance. Hands reach for me, arms grasp me and i am safe away from the street or car. The scenario had gone from slow motion to hyperspeed and i blink, unnerved by the situation. He is speaking to me and i do not listen, pulling out of his reach and glancing around at my surroundings as if i am just now realizing where i am and what exactly took place. But there is that feeling again; concern. It washes over me and i feel my labored breathing grow still. Are you okay? Is his first question, its far too deep for me to answer but my mind states, No. Are you hurt? A much better question, i can answer this one.

I offer a sideways glance, pure gaze resting on his deep eyes before i finally speak, " I'm not hurt." i state simply, my delicate alto voice sounds shaky and foreign to my ears. I lift a slim hand to adjust my white locs and turn fully to face him now, "I.." i pause, gently biting my lip as i test the words before speaking them, "i wasn't trying to die on purpose." i begin, if i tell him i was going to move eventually he might see me as unappreciative. If i tell him of why i didn't move he might see me as crazy. I had to choose my words carefully. "Er... thank you." my social skills needed some work considering the only person i ever spoke to was the other version of me. In all honesty, she spoke to me and i simply listened. Being the one to speak was much harder. ;ets just try something simple... "I'm Columbia..." i murmur gently, lifting my hand in an offering. I've seen people do it in movies, shake hands, give their names.

Here goes nothing.

COLUMBIA de LÉVÊQUE

but this time, it did not return to him