I remember hitting him in the face with my elbow. I remember cradling his face, apologizing, laughing. I remember the buttons on the back of my dress coming apart, the two of us conspiring to hide the holes. I remember him asking me to choreograph something, I remember my refusal, because it would make it unnatural, unreal.
Since then he's reminded me that everything is unreal, and nothing is unreal. Since then I've learned that everything is what we make it. If we keep trying, we can't fail. And planned or not, it's real.