¿are we real?

She’s turning towards the door.

I hold her arm and tell her, “we can’t leave. We have to stay here right now.”

“But I want to go,” she moans. She’s confused. Why am I keeping her here?

“I know.” “But we have to stay here for a bit.”

She’s reluctant, but her arm falls and she slides next to me.

She looks at the side of my face and asks, “Am I real?”

Pause.

And then, “I don't know,” I breath.