She realized she was still in love with him. Or can realize even be the proper word to describe something she'd discovered and rediscovered this many times?

To her, he was perfect. More perfect than any perfection she could imagine. Like in the movies where an impossibly beautiful chalk drawing turned into reality and the imperfections, or rather details in surprising places, textures, made the perfection even more extraordinary. Because he was real.  Really real. Flesh and blood and dirt and bark.