The credits have finished, but a few people are still sitting down. Someone near the front is looking for a scarf. A coat slides from the back of a seat, and the small sound seems louder than it would have been two hours earlier. The room is returning to its ordinary dimensions. I stay where I am until the person beside me has found both gloves.
I like the interval between the last image and the lobby. There is usually a conversation waiting on the other side of the door, with opinions that need putting into words. In the auditorium, I can still hold on to a color without deciding whether I liked the story. A pale green wall may be the part I remember most clearly, although I could barely describe what happened in front of it.
As the lights come up, the screen becomes an object again. Its lower edge is visible above the empty space at the front. The curtains have seams. People who were silhouettes now have patterned sleeves and shopping bags tucked beside their feet. I watch this change without trying to preserve the darkness. There is something satisfying about seeing where we have been sitting, and how little of the room was needed while the film was running.
