He reaches out to me. It seems as if he's begging me to reach back. I get the feeling of accomplishment, the feeling that can only come with acceptance. It's rare, this amazing victory. Cautiously I reach out, savoring the moment, engraving it in my memory, wanting to be able to look back at this moment and feel how I feel now. My hand is just inches from my goal, probably the greatest goal of mankind, when he turns away. The depression hits. The feeling of being rejected is almost crippling. My hand hangs in the air, still trying to grasp the white hair that was there a moment ago. He walks away with his head held high, looking over his shoulder with arrogance. Oh, Llonnie, you silly llama, you had me going.