You know that feeling when you go outside a movie theatre? You're stepping from a story, which is wonderful and great but somewhat flatter than real life, with all the plot threads neatly tied together in a bow at the end, and stepping into real life, which is loud and sometimes smelly and oh so much brighter? You're dazed, just a bit, as you come out into the parking lot and you might sneeze at the bright light that suddenly fills your awareness and makes you know that there is more than just a set of regimented stories and that life is complex and beautiful and you could never understand all of it in a million years?

That metaphor ran away from me a little but that, exactly that, happens as she rounds the bend and sees the lighthouse, the strange woman standing there, the crater, and the blinding glow. Down to the sneezing fit. "I'm sorry" -ka-chew- "I'm not sure" -ka-chew- "what's going on" -ka-chew-. She stumbles through the apology, staying far enough away that her sneezes won't get near the other woman.