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Show 139 She thought for a moment: "It's strange. We don't know anybody like those people tonight-those characters in the movie. We've never been to New York. And yet, we really get involved." "Yes, but life and movies are different." "What do you mean?" "Well, for one thing: a movie ends, life doesn't." He chuckled. "Not unless you die, of course." Had he thought that? Or had he picked it up from his drama teacher? "But they're the same," she protested, "in a way." "Oh yes. That's what makes them-well, what they are." She thought about what he had said: movies end, life doesn't. Yes, that was true. Of course, it was obvious. She had never really thought about it before; it had been too obvious. But now she felt it in a way she never had quite before. Life went on. A person got out of bed every morning, day after day, and got dressed. A person might change, might grow, or go through tough times-but life went on. There was no overwhelming sense of ending. Nothing that brought life to a nice, tidy climax. Maybe that's why she liked the movies as much as she did: that knowledge of the approaching last frame, which wrapped things up, which ended them. The coming on of the lights. That sense of ending. With some final statement of meaning, which gave the whole movie significance. But life wasn't like that. Even when it ended. Like with her mom and dad-their lives had not been structured toward some final climax, toward death. Death had not been an ending-some final statement which had given their lives significance-instead it had taken away what meaning there had been in their lives. Robbed their lives of |