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Sometimes "real" is our desire for a particular and preferred frame of reference to materialize. Our expectations may cause us to spend years believing the frame will be realized only because we once had it and want it again. Real is when we cease to wait for something to frame up. Waiting =/= Living. ~Zest of Life
Her heart sank into her shoes as she realized at last how much she wanted him. No matter what his past was, no matter what he had done. Which was not to say that she would ever let him know, but only that he moved her chemically more than anyone she had ever met, that all other men seemed pale beside him.