Where am I? What's going on? Why is there so much noise? This was all I could think while waiting for my vision to adjust from its fuzziness. I looked down at the ground only to see a paling body lying at my feet. A young boy is kneeling next to him, holding his hand while the noise gets louder by the second.
All this feels familiar, the emotions of it clinging themselves onto every inch of my body and mind. And then it all comes rushing back to me, all the memories of the hours before this scene that's splayed out in front of me. I watch the memories in a third person position, soaking in all of the information so I know how to best handle this situation. But by the time I'm just starting to think of something to do to help there are so many people around us, ranging from paramedics to police officers.
Then I notice it. I was so oblivious to it before, but now it's more than obvious. None of the people surrounding us had made physical or eye contact with me and they were more than close enough to be touching me. Now that he thought back to the man at his feet, he couldn't really recall actually feeling him there.
And then the last of the memories come back to me, the last stragglers in the crowd of remembrance, the ones that should have been there in the first place: Mr. Pignati is the man dying on the ground at my feet, I can't help or control this situation, and one of the two of his good friends walked away at his time of most need. My heart strings are pulled at violently as I start to realize that I'm watching myself die. I am Mr. Pignati, but not in the flesh and blood this time around.
