One night she went to hear Barry Manilow in concert. She smuggled a tape recorder in. When she got home she played a specific little bit of it over and over and over again.
"Can't you hear it?" she asked.
"This!" She played a bit, then rewound it, then played it for me again. "Can't you hear it?"
"All I hear is the song," I said.
"No, no!" she cried, "Can't you hear him looking right at me when he sang this part? He looked right at me!"