When Lightning Strikes

Nya had never had this feeling before. Swooning was not in her vocabulary; it wasn’t like her. As she slowly walked by the glass walls of the conference room, the way his eyes met hers created an instant jolt of electricity. It was exhilarating, breathtaking...a moment that would change her life forever. And that jolt...it was more like a lightning bolt.

What the…!” someone at the table exclaimed as the lights cut out and the glass walls shattered inward, raining shards upon the gathered employees. Papers went flying and cups toppled, splattering coffee and water onto neatly pressed suits and dresses. Laptop screens flickered with jagged colored lines, signaling an abrupt end to the meeting.

Groans and expletives ensued as the group scrambled for paper towels, desperately wiping liquid from their hardware and clothes. One man snatched up the conference room phone; a loud crackle tore through the overhead speakers as he bellowed into the receiver, “Clean up in the main conference room! Now! Hurry!”

He slammed the phone down so hard it bounced off the base and skidded across the floor. The coiled cord snaked out, tripping one of the women as she tried to rush by. She fell forward, crying out as she landed on the jagged glass that pierced her palms. In all the commotion, her pencil skirt ripped, exposing her slip underneath. Several men stopped in their tracks to gawk at her before bothering to ask if she was okay.

She sat on the floor, clutching her bleeding arm in the air. “Someone get me a damn towel!” she howled.

No one in the conference room realized the line was still live on the intercom. The rest of the office heard every bit of the commotion. Stunned by the deafening crash and the sudden darkness, several more employees began rushing toward the conference room to see the havoc for themselves.

Unmoved by the pandemonium, Nya and Torin walked toward one another, their gazes locked. Sparks danced across their skin. Nya let out a quiet giggle as they slipped around the corner into the quiet hall, away from everyone rushing towards the conference room of chaos.

They stood silently in the dark hall, eyes fixed, child-like smiles on each of their flushed faces. The unceasing static of shocked, frustrated and angry coworkers just around the corner. Torin looked down at Nya’s hand; a few blue and white sparks still flickered, but he reached out to grab it anyway. As he did, they released abruptly, the shock straightening their backs as they let out a harmonious “whoa.”

The flittering sparks on their bodies tapered to a thin line of electricity that traced the iris of their widened eyes before completely diminishing.

“Did you feel that? How crazy! Did you know you could...?” Torin didn’t finish; concern washed over him as he saw a twinge of sadness come over Nya’s face.

“No…I, mean, I didn’t know,” Nya whispered sheepishly in the dark hall. The thought of him knowing how she truly felt was like stepping onto a ledge; she wasn’t ready for the fall of possible rejection.

The weight of her past still lingered. It had been just over a year since she’d escaped a toxic, six-year relationship; a landmine of arguments, gaslighting, and aggressive instability that always had her walking on eggshells. Her plan had been to ‘find herself,’ to learn how to feel whole without needing someone else to provide the gravity. She spent her weekends discovering small joys, a specific coffee or craft beer, the simple peace of a Sunday morning walk…things that made her feel anchored, happy.

But then came Torin, the unforeseen variable, and the one piece of the puzzle she hadn't realized was missing. The way he made her feel seen, safe, and dangerously alive, threatened to short-circuit every defense mechanism she had spent the past several years building.

Torin and Nya had worked together for the same company. Torin had worked there near ten years before Nya began as an assistant two years ago. Though they worked in different departments, their paths crossed several times a day; sometimes in the breakroom, but more often in the low-voltage hum of their company event group’s Teams chat.

On occasion, they would hijack a playful group thread about who brought what to the office potluck, only pivoting the conversation to movies and music. The rest of the group would eventually fall silent, leaving the two of them to debate the validity of Oscar nominees or upcoming concerts. They didn’t care that the entire group could see their digital banter. To everyone else, it was just pop-culture noise or silly shared cat memes. To Nya and Torin, it was part of the workday they looked forward to most.

Torin didn't have the emotional bandwidth for a relationship either; or so he told himself. His world had shrunk to the size of a doctor’s office waiting room and his small personal office.

His days were a relentless cycle of overwork at the office and the quiet, but heavy and lonely duty of caretaking. Since recently losing his father, he had become his mother’s primary anchor during her most recent battle with cancer. She was a fighter, a woman of iron will, yet he felt the constant urge to remain within arm’s reach, ready to catch her if ever she needed him.

The only light in that narrow existence was Nya. He looked forward to their privately shared Teams chats like a man surfacing for air. In those digital spaces, they weren't just colleagues; they were two souls speaking a private language that translated to pop culture and cat memes. Although they spent little time together in the physical world, she made him feel truly seen, not as a grieving son or a stressed employee…but as himself. A man looking for a reason to breath.

Standing there in the dark hall, years of digital connection finally collided with reality. Maybe it was the shared electrical phenomenon, maybe it was coincidence or maybe it was the serendipitous mercy of the universe. Either way, neither were ready to let the moment go.

As footsteps echoed behind them, Torin and Nya found themselves rushing towards the stairwell, away from the panic. As they raced down the back stairs leading to the parking lot, the absurdity of it all caught up to them. They were laughing. Two people in their mid-forties, hearts pounding and neither could remember ever feeling so alive.

As they burst through the door to the parking lot, a mischievous smile upon Torin’s face, he looked at Nya and asked, “wanna get out of here?”

Suddenly feeling sixteen again, Nya flashed a grin and blurted, “you bet I do!” Cringing as she wondered why she suddenly sounded like an 80’s sitcom.

“Let’s take my car,” Torin rushed, clicking his key-fob as he hurried across the pavement.

Nya smiled and moved with him, her footsteps light. She didn’t need to be told where they were going; she already knew where he parked. Torin always chose the same spot, and she’d made a habit of looking for his car when she arrived at work; she often worried this was on the border of being stalkerish.

He owned a black Camaro. It was a sharp, aggressive machine, and though she couldn't deny how effortlessly sexy he looked behind the wheel, she’d initially struggled with the choice. In her experience, sports car owners were usually retired, insecure, or overcompensating for something they were missing in their lives. But Torin was none of those things. As she watched him unlock the door, she felt a faint sting of shame for ever having judged him by the car he drove.

“Do you care where we go?” Torin asked, his voice low.

“Surprise me,” Nya said, sliding into the leather passenger seat.

The interior of the sports car felt like a private sanctuary. As he pulled out of the lot, he turned the stereo on to a band they both loved. When 311’s remake of the Cure’s “Love Song” drifted from the car speakers, Nya felt the blood rush to her cheeks. A wave of goosebumps rose on her arms and neck, a physical reaction to the tune she could not suppress.

“Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am young again...”

Nya caught Torin glancing over at her. The song enveloped her, and she wondered: did he feel this pull, too? Or was she just searching for patterns in the static?

Time seemed to blur as they reached a park overlooking the city’s main lake. Torin pulled into the lot just as “Face in the Wind” began to play. He turned off the car and looked over at Nya for a cue. When she reached for the door handle, he followed suite, stepping out into the invigorating spring air.

“I feel like a walk,” Torin said, “how about you?”

Nya gazed at the wide trail circling the water...6.2 miles exactly. Recalling the countless laps, listening to music that breathed life into her own. It had been a struggle at first, but she was determined to keep moving, and with every mile she learned to let go of a toxic past and embrace the possibilities ahead.

As long as they were together, she didn’t care what they did, Nya thought.

“I’d love to,” she said.

The two walked side by side, their conversation flowing as trail runners and bicyclists breezed by. Neither wanted the day to end, and their pace slowed to a crawl. Although the walk had begun under a partly cloudy, 70-degree sky, the wind began to pick up and the horizon fused into shades of burgundy and deep purple. Their connection felt timeless, yet they were suddenly running out of time.

Raindrops began to stipple the sidewalk just as they discovered in their evolving conversation, they had been at the same concert a year prior. They came to a halt beneath the park's massive flag, flapping with the breeze above them.

“Oh my gosh, did you stick around after the rain started?” Nya asked.

“‘By the power of Zeus, I command the rain to stop!’” Torin mocked, his voice dropping into a deep, theatrical boom as he imitated the performer.

Nya laughed, realizing they had been walking for nearly three hours. Her nerves had long since settled. “But it didn’t stop! It just…”

“…came down harder!” They exclaimed in unison.

The laughter died away, replaced by a sudden, heavy silence. They turned to face each other, oblivious to the ominous clouds racing overhead. Above them, the park flag flapped violently, its metal grommets clanging against the pole like a frantic heartbeat. They were standing amidst the eerie, breathless calm before a storm.

“Were you hit, too?” Nya asked, her voice a hushed thread of concern.

“That’s when it happened,” Torin answered. He reached out, gently pulling Nya toward him.

Static began to dance over their skin. The clanging of the flag above intensified as the wind surged, and the rain began to fall…at first a mist, then a downpour.

Defying the growing gale around them, Torin leaned in until his lips touched Nya’s. As they both breathed in, eyes closed, a bolt of lightning tore through the sky and struck the earth at their feet. A glowing, flickering globe of blue and white energy erupted around them, defying gravity and lifting them off the ground as they surrendered to their first kiss. Nya didn't open her eyes to the glow; for the first time in years, she felt grounded, even as her feet left the earth.

The crushing weight of the last six years…the fear, the grief, and exhaustion simply evaporated. For the first time in their lives, the world was alive. It wasn't something to be merely survived; it was something to be lived. As the globe of light pulsed with the rhythm of their hearts, Nya realized she wasn't falling anymore. She was flying. And for Torin, the heavy anchor he’d been carrying for so long hadn't just been lifted, it had become light.