So we tell the same story, over and over. Just the details are different
Distance was a dangerous thing, she knew. Distance changed people.
Lately you are brooding too much about rights. Give up this dangerous habit.
There didn't seem to her any harm in it, and the make-believe was so comforting.
If there was an abundance of misery in the world, there was also sufficient joy, yes - as long as one knew where to look for it.
All fiction relies on the real world in the sense that we all take in the world through our five senses and we accumulate details, consciously or subconsciously. This accumulation of detail can be drawn on when you write fiction.