Where the Glass Dissolves
Matthew and Nikki... separate, together
This story exists for a few reasons. AI Meets Girlboss recently had a prompt challenge for putting any city into an airplane window. I created six of them for places that hold personal importance, including my “home town.” I had the idea for this story for a few weeks now, and it seemed like the prompt tipped the scales in favour of writing this tale. It was a bit of a coin flip as to whether I would use my recurring characters of Matthew and Nikki (who usually get written about over on my other stack, Getting Close), but in the end, I know I made the right choice.
Matthew had been gone for just over thirteen months when Nikki suggested their first date. They had been speaking every day since he moved across the ocean. At first, their conversations were practical.
Did you land safely?
Is the apartment warm enough?
Have you eaten anything besides cereal?
Then the questions became less useful and more important.
What did you dream about?
What song made you think of me today?
Do you still reach across the bed when you wake up?
The time difference distorted their days. Matthew ate breakfast while Nikki finished lunch. She prepared for bed while he watched the afternoon light turn gold against the windows of his apartment.
They lived in different tomorrows.
Sometimes Matthew imagined the ocean as a great dark animal sleeping between them, its back rising and falling beneath the clouds.
One evening, Nikki sent him a link without explanation.
When Matthew opened it, Google Maps appeared on his screen. A narrow stone street stretched beneath a blue Portuguese sky. Pale buildings leaned toward one another, their shutters open, laundry stirring between balconies.
A small red pin marked a café.
Nikki: Get dressed. We are going out. Matthew looked down at his faded T-shirt.
Matthew: I am dressed.
Nikki: You are wearing the shirt with the hole near the collar.
He touched the hole instinctively.
Matthew: You cannot possibly know that.
Nikki: I see you. ❤️
He changed into the black shirt she liked.
Nikki video-called him from her bedroom. Her hair was loose, and she wore the necklace with the pendant that Matthew still could not believe she had invested in.
“Ready?” she asked.
“For what?”
“Our date.”
She shared her screen.
Together they travelled through Lisbon one click at a time.
Nikki guided him along the streets, passing vendors and pretending to stop and admire the art. She showed him the bakery where the owner always gives extra pastries if you smile just right. She showed him an alley where they imagined taking a selfie with a quick embrace and a kiss.
They ate dinner together afterwards. Matthew had ordered Portuguese tarts from a restaurant across the city. Nikki had made grilled sandwiches because the restaurant near her was closed.
“This is wildly unfair,” Nikki said, taking a bite from her sandwich. “You are eating Portuguese tarts almost 7000km away, while I eat cheese between two pieces of bread.”
“I can describe it to you.”
“I will end this call.”
He smiled. “You would call back.”
“Eventually.”
“Within three minutes.”
“Two,” she admitted.
That became their ritual.
Every other Thursday, they chose somewhere on the map.
They wandered beneath the white buildings of Santorini as Nikki sat wrapped in a blanket. They explored Christchurch, Helsinki, Toronto and, in some cases, streets so remote that the camera blurred the faces of goats standing in the road.
They dressed for each destination.
For Santorini, Nikki wore red lipstick.
For Helsinki, Matthew wore a scarf indoors until she told him he looked ridiculous.
For Machu Picchu, they packed imaginary backpacks and argued about who had forgotten the water.
Matthew began saving screenshots of their dates. Nikki laughing beside a frozen image of the Aegean. Matthew pretending to lean against a lamppost in Lisbon. Both of them holding their hands toward the screen as if perspective could turn pixels into touch.
They built memories in places neither of them had stood. It should have felt false. It never did. One night, Nikki took him back to the street where their first date had begun.
“Why here?” Matthew asked.
“Because I miss you.”
The answer was so simple that he had nothing to place between himself and the pain of it. Nikki moved through the map until they reached the ocean. The Street View camera had captured the water under a pale evening sky. The Atlantic stretched toward the horizon, silver-blue and impossibly calm.
Matthew positioned his laptop on the windowsill. Beyond the glass, his city glittered beneath a winter night. Two cities appeared at once. Lisbon on the screen, his beyond the window.
Nikki lifted her hand. Matthew knew what she wanted before she said it. He raised his palm and placed it against the screen. Her hand aligned with his. The image pixelated around her fingers. For a moment, they laughed at how badly the shapes matched. Then they grew quiet.
“I hate this part,” Nikki whispered.
“What part?”
“The part where you are right there.”
Matthew pressed his hand harder against the glass. “I am here.”
“No,” she said. “You are close. That is different.”
He lowered his forehead toward the screen. Nikki did the same. Two faces separated by glass, distance and light. Matthew closed his eyes.
“I would give anything for one second,” he said.
“One second of what?”
“You know.”
Her voice softened. “Tell me.”
“To touch you.”
The call stuttered. Nikki’s image froze.
Matthew opened his eyes, expecting the connection to disappear, but the room had changed. The hum of the refrigerator faded. The traffic below his apartment vanished. Even the faint electronic glow of the laptop seemed to dim.
A thin line of gold appeared beneath his palm. It moved across the screen like sunlight travelling under ice.
“Nikki?”
“I see it.”
The line divided, branching between their fingers. The glass warmed. Matthew tried to pull his hand away, but something held it there. The screen no longer felt hard. Its surface trembled beneath his touch, soft as water and thin as breath.
Nikki’s fingers moved. He felt them. Matthew stopped breathing. Her palm pressed against his, warm and alive. The lines of her hand rested perfectly against his own. Her fingers slipped between his.
The screen was gone.
Nikki stood before him, surrounded by the fading lights of her town. Matthew could smell the air. He could feel the cool breeze lifting the hair from her cheek. She stared at him with an expression too full for language.
Matthew reached through the opening. His fingertips touched her face. Nikki closed her eyes. He traced her cheekbone, the curve of her ear, the softness beneath her jaw. Every detail he had remembered was there, and every detail he had forgotten returned beneath his hand.
She placed her palm against his chest. His heart struck against it.
“There you are,” she whispered.
Matthew leaned forward. Their foreheads touched. For one breath, there was no ocean. No clocks. No apartments. No life waiting beyond the edges of the moment. There was only the warmth of her skin and the small sound she made when his thumb moved across her cheek.
Then the gold began to fade.
“No,” Matthew said.
Nikki tightened her fingers around his wrist. The world flickered.
“Stay with me.”
“I am trying.”
The glass returned from the edges inward. The cold surface formed between their foreheads. Nikki’s hand slipped away from his chest. Matthew reached for her, but his fingers met the screen.
The room filled again with traffic and machinery. Nikki sat on the other side of the call. Her palm remained raised. Matthew placed his hand against hers. Neither of them spoke for a long time.
Finally, Nikki wiped tears from her face and smiled. “Did that happen?”
Matthew could still feel the warmth of her cheek on his fingertips. “Yes.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“One second?”
“Maybe.”
Nikki looked toward the sea frozen behind her on the map. “That wasn’t enough.”
Matthew studied her face. “No,” he said. “But it was real.”
The next Thursday, Nikki sent him another location. A quiet road in yet another country, bordered by stone walls and fields that fell toward the ocean.
Nikki: Get dressed.
Matthew smiled and reached for the dark blue shirt.
Matthew: Where are we going?
Her reply appeared.
Nikki: Somewhere the glass might remember us.
Matthew joined the call.
They placed their hands against the screen before the date began. Nothing happened.
The surface remained cold. Still, they kept their palms together. They smiled. And somewhere beneath the pixels, beneath the cables and the sleeping ocean, a thin golden thread stirred again.
Beautiful. I’d give anything for that 1 second too.💜