To slip into a dream?

Everything he thought was real—was not.

Except when he slipped into her dreams, making the act of seeing her a dream and a reality.

He had always believed that love was a black hole.. A smoky cloud. A missed date. Smudged words on paper, ink sinking his nostalgia into unknown territory.

The link.

My God, he thought. She clicked it.

The first reader of his first self-published novel. His first reviewer. Already?

He had hit publish at midnight. By 5 a.m., unable to sleep, he went for a jog—content, restless. The orange horizon stretched over a spacious, speciesless desert, whispering something about this stranger star.

Time zones must have been different. That’s when he slipped into her world. That’s when he met his mysterious number-one fan.

The ceiling fan above his apartment turned slowly, but the real roof was the open sky. The sun woke him every morning, the fresh air filled his lungs.

He reached for a pen—no, two. The inner monologue had to be written now, before it faded. Before it fell beneath the emotional wreckage of routine.

You slipped into my mind—had I seen you?You slipped under my fountain pen—to write you, to meet you.

The IP address—a hacker would have to break through the walls, sneak into her bedroom, tuck him there.

Where was she?

A traveler? A taxi driver? A pilot?

He was on his one-way trip to see her.

Love?