I hadn’t dated in nearly a decade. For ten years, my heart had been a quiet house with the lights turned low. I wasn’t looking for a spark; I was looking for a “forever”—the kind of man who would never leave.

Then came the Colonel.

We talked on the phone for hours before we ever met, our voices weaving together across the distance. I didn’t actually think we would date. He was an Air Force Colonel, a man of logistics and high-level strategy. But then came the first date at one of the finest restaurants in town.

But this isn’t a love story.But as the romance faded, a different kind of mystery began to emerge.

The “Spy” in the Mirror

During the time we dated, something strange happened on my website. My analytics started spiking. The locations? China and Russia. It likely meant nothing—a digital coincidence—but the Colonel had asked me more than once, with a smart, searching look in his eyes: “Are you a spy?”

The combination of his high-security clearance, the sudden international digital traffic, and those playful accusations sparked something in my artist’s brain. I started thinking: What if I was? ### Art from the Archives I began to envision a series of art pieces that look like stolen military secrets. But instead of digital files, I wanted to use something with weight and history.

I have acquired a collection of sheet glass dating back to 1861. My plan is to etch these “military secrets” into the antique glass—mixing the high-tech paranoia of modern intelligence with the fragile, wavy texture of the Civil War era.

It’s funny how a relationship can end without “working out,” yet leave you with something entirely new. He gave me a glimpse of a future I could have had, a lesson in negotiation I failed, and a mystery that I’m now turning into art.

I didn’t find my forever man, but I found a new way to see the world—through etched glass and the eyes of a “spy.”

Hmmm…

Looking back, I find myself questioning the nature of his suspicion. Was he truly worried I was a spy, or was his ‘fear’ just a convenient wall? When you spend a lifetime guarding state secrets, perhaps you lose the ability to let anyone see your heart. Maybe it was easier to cast me as a double agent than to face the vulnerability of a real relationship. Instead of being the spy he feared, I will become a scholar of the things I love—etching the secrets I enjoy into that 1861 glass: the birth of white holes, the architecture of the fourth dimension, Einstein’s gravity, and the silent, pulsing language of vasodilation.

I don’t feel I need to create.  I feel like I just needed to get the story out.  It’s been festering for months.  I did create a lot of “military secret” rough drafts for turning dark matter into energy, rapid cell regeneration, complex factors influencing longevity, teleportation, and a few others.  I don’t feel moved to etch them on glass anymore.

Story by Melissa Stone

Edited by Gemini AI