Collision

The instant was slender and tense, pulsing with unsaid vitality. Mateo stood motionless by the side of the road, the Griffith Observatory's charcoal sketch raised like a delicate flag. Half-in, half-out of the waiting Escalade, Seraphina paused across the asphalt expanse, her posture radiating a sudden, intense stillness while her sunglasses obscured her face.

Then, as Seraphina had predicted, anarchy broke out.

When the figure appeared out of the roadside foliage, the two security officers on either side of the car door responded immediately. It was years of training. It registered as a possible threat when they saw a stranger approaching their charge while holding something up. "Mister! Remain there! One of them yelled, "Don't come near!" and sprinted over to Mateo, reaching inside his jacket. The other guard shifted to better protect Seraphina, pushing her into the car.

Mateo felt his blood chill. He hadn't considered anything other than the urgent need to make contact, and he hadn't expected this violent reaction. His mind racing, he took an instinctive step back and lowered the drawing a little. Had everything been ruined by him?

Seraphina's voice, however, broke through the tension with clarity and a sharpness that even her own security detail was taken aback by. "Wait!"

The guards came to a complete stop and turned back to face her, their faces displaying a mix of professional concern and bewilderment. Their faces showed the conflict between their training to obey her and to neutralize threats.

Disregarding their inquisitive gazes, the Escalade's open door, and the impatient hum of its engine, Seraphina made a firm move away from the car and toward the edge of the open gateway. Almost instinctively, she lifted a hand, lowering her defenses for another vital moment. Behind the dark lenses, her eyes were completely focused on Mateo.

He held the drawing tightly in his hand as he stood motionless. The area between them, which might have been thirty yards of asphalt, a well-kept curb, and security guards, felt like an impenetrable abyss and a powerful magnetic field all at once. Behind the sunglasses, he sensed the tumultuous storm of recognition and disbelief, the weight of her attention.

With deliberate slowness, Seraphina took off the sunglasses.

Her eyes, the same ones he had known well from innumerable dreams—deep, perceptive, and now wide with shock—met his at a distance. There was no uncertainty, no confusion. Just recognition, pure and unadulterated. It took the air out of Mateo's lungs with the force of a physical impact. She was familiar with him.

She parted her lips slightly, as though to speak, but he didn't hear a sound right away. His hand shaking, he lowered the drawing all the way. Now what? The routine sounds of the canyon road, such as the hum of the Escalade's engine and a distant bird call, faded into insignificance as the silence grew longer and thicker with unsaid words.

"Mateo?" The name was hardly more than a whisper, lost in the warm California air, but it rang clear to him like a bell. It was her disbelieving voice, unadulterated by recording studio technology or dream logic.

After a struggle, he found his own voice and swallowed. "Seraphina." It felt like breaking a spell just to say her name out loud, in front of her, in the real world. "It's… it's me."

Something flickered across her face, either wonder or fear, or possibly both. Her security chief, Liam, moved forward once more and placed a firm hand on Seraphina's elbow. He whispered, "Ma'am," in a low, demanding voice. "We must depart. Right now. This isn't secure. It's possible someone saw.

The delicate bubble that surrounded them was shattered by his words. Blinking, Seraphina appeared to regain her sense of self as the situation came back to her. Liam was correct, and she knew it. It was impossible to avoid this public roadside. A curtain in a nearby house's window twitched, drawing unwanted attention to the brief, thrilling moment of connection.

Her gaze was fixed on Mateo, but she let Liam gently lead her back to the Escalade. He now saw a flurry of feelings in them, including the unmistakable recognition, the lingering shock, a moment of fear, and something else—a fierce, desperate spark of something he couldn't identify. Hope? Decide?

Her expression was intense as she looked into his eyes one last time before ducking into the car. Mouthing the words, "Be careful," she echoed silently the warning from her dream, but this time she was aware of the dangers that were right in front of them.

Then the heavy door closed with a firm, decisive thud, and she was inside. The car was impenetrable and opaque due to its tinted windows. Before boarding a second car that was parked close by, the security officers gave Mateo one final warning glance. Mateo stood alone on the sun-drenched roadside as the Escalade slid away from the curb, turned the corner, and vanished with a smooth, silent acceleration.

He stood for a long time with his heart racing wildly and the sketchbook page still clenched in his hand. Perhaps thirty seconds had passed during the tumultuous, high-stakes collision of two radically different worlds. She was sealed back inside her moving fortress at the end of it, which was chaotic, interrupted, and terrifying.

But it had occurred.

Security had not tackled him. They hadn't written him off as a fan with hallucinations. She was aware of him. She knew who he was. In the bright light of day, she had halted her guards, called his name, and acknowledged their connection. The bridge had withstood the harsh weight of reality, albeit tenuously, having been forged in the fleeting terrain of dreams.

He glanced down at the observatory's sketch before turning around and heading back up the deserted road where the Escalade had disappeared. The walls separating them were still enormous, possibly even more so now that her team was aware of something, even if they were unsure of what it was. The road ahead was still perilous, unclear, and full of barriers he didn't fully understand.

However, a delicate yet resilient warmth pushed back against the loneliness and the fear as Mateo turned at last and carefully tucked the drawing back into his sketchbook. It had collided. They had made contact. He had not only recognized Seraphina, but he had also heard her whispered warning and seen her eyes. He had witnessed the indisputable evidence that he was not alone in his fervent hope that their impossibly unlikely bond would somehow endure.