She has lost the only real component of her existence, which was dangerous for someone with so little imagination. I could picture her, clutching at air, then, as she realized air cannot be embraced, sliding lower and lower in the depths of pain. Without me, she had to find something real, otherwise she would go… insane. I didn’t like this word; it was casually tossed around at anyone who found the world a little odd at times, and made the mistake of telling people about it. But the insanity that threatened her was very serious; it was the insanity of a woman who finds herself floating over the more obvious scraps of reality that others nail to the ground in desperation.