He stared at her. His lips were trembling. "I—I don't know. What is it? It was never like this."
"What was never like this?"
"Love—I mean—you—what is it?"
"Real. It's real, darling Kelsey. That's the difference, isn't it?"
"Real?" His face had an uncomprehending look, the cheek muscles trembling as he spoke, his voice hollow and frightened. "Something," he whispered. "What is it? I've never felt anything like it. It—it's too much, maybe. Too much or something—I don't know—"
His face was white. He was sliding away from her.
Already I am losing him, she thought. He's going away. Somehow he senses what is wrong, without knowing what it is he knows. In spite of the beautiful surface, he senses that I am not real, not human, not a being at all.
"No, please," she whispered.
She moved desperately and clutched at him and held him tightly, shocked at his stiffness now, his reluctance, his trembling. She felt tears inside, though they could never show. "Please, please," she whispered.
His voice was shaking. "Listen—it's too much. You scare me. Wait a minute now, let's talk about this. I want to know—"