Prologue
Am I real? Of course my answer should be yes, but now? It isn't my fault that I feel this way. No, it was her. She who made my head spin in circles and my heart do back flips. Yep it was her that caused me to think I'm not real.
Of course she could be the unreal one. A dream I made or someone else one made. (It's rather hard to tell the difference here) Yet I couldn't imagine her being unreal. The touch of her skin, her color, her life. No someone like that surely was not a dream… Right?
I looked toward where she lay afraid she would hear my thoughts (It can be possible here) her curly brown hair fell against her like a halo. God she is beautiful I thought.
Something beautiful can't be imaginary… right? Too many questions, with so few answers. I sighed and lay down. Tomorrow I would know I would have to. I needed to know before she leaves. Before she leaves me…
I was about to drift asleep when the question bombarded my brain. Were we both imaginary? Are we both real? Who made us? Where is she from? Why won't she tell me? Did we make each other? Who came first? Does she love me?
A question only leads to more. Our brains and hearts at work for better or worse. If only for better…