Fall was around the corner and the temperature was dropping. Violetta sat at her window seat in the French bakery off 2^nd street. The appealing bakery display box showcased caramel apples, chocolate cupcakes, and strawberry cake pops. She sipped her espresso while scribbling annotations in her daily ‘2035 Robotheism Devotionals’ book.

Her crimson red hair was curly and pulled back into a loose bun with her bangs framing her face and she was wearing emerald jewel earrings that matched her low-cut blouse. Her neon yellow polish was a stark contrast to the page as she flipped through to today’s date November 13, 2035.

Across town Zach was scrolling through podcasts to listen to while he sketched the blueprint for the new high rise off 5^th ‘Urban Spire Master Plan’. Violetta’s words urging him in a religious direction replayed from the week before. Her enchanting voice flooding the corners of his mind, persuading his beliefs, felt like liquid ice cooling him down. Would he go with a theology podcast? Not a change, he selected a technology podcast and continued sketching.

Violetta was mesmerizing, but he wouldn’t be swayed so easily. Afterall, he was more than 5 years her senior and too independently minded to be swayed by the religious cult circles she ran in. He laughed to himself at the thought that she could save him, let alone guide him. He was getting tired of her game, but they were always running into each other and leading parallel lives. They had nothing in common, but the chemistry was undeniable.

His drafting table had a pile of blueprints stacked on top of each other. At one corner a Lipton soup can with a ribbon on it that his daughter had made for him was filled with drawing pencils.  At the other, tunes floated out of his Bowers & Wilkins speakers. A neon sign hung on the wall with the word “Believe”. The “lie” was neon blue standing out against the “Be___ve” that were red.

“I can be a better person for you God” Violetta etched into the corner of her devotional.

A troubled soul Violetta’s phone repeatedly notified her of the messages her countless intrigues that she had been entertaining sent her. When she met Zach at IMA she had recently deconverted from Scientology.

A devout follower she had spent her youth in the Sea Org, after signing the billion-year contract. She never felt like she was free from disembodied thetans and finally gave up the religion after much of her life in devotion.

“Are you up?” the infamous text hit Zach’s line at half past 3 in the morning.

Zach tossed his phone aside and resolved not to answer. He sketched briefly and then picked his phone up again.

‘Violetta Delacroix’ he glanced at her name and then opened her contact card.

Her picture had a blurred pink background that looks like the feathers of flamingo dancers in Vegas. Her teeth perfectly white, her red hair slightly longer than it was now. Was she inviting him over? He would drive right over in his Lexus LS if he could, but he had his reservations. He hadn’t seen her since meeting with Calloway and that had been weeks by now.

“What are you doing up this late missy? On a school night?” he replied.

‘I had a bad dream; it reminded me of you.’

He laughed to himself; she was always up to some sort of game and indirect communication seemed to be her love language.

“Say it isn’t so,” He took the initiative “Well now you’ve distracted me, what do you want?”

She smiled, now she had her way. This endless game of cat and mouse would be the demise of them both. Violetta made her way to her kitchen and took a glass from the neon bar on her marbled countertop. She began to craft a cocktail while her phone violently vibrated back in her satin sheets in the next room.

She ignited a candle and an incense and turned on her record player. She didn’t intend on seeing Zach, just wanted to let him know that he had been in her dreams. She envisioned his eyes when they were lit up while he was inside of her. Those eyes would be the death of her.

Violetta may not have been as old as Zach, but she had a track record of proven success in many institutions and organizations. She was an expert in her own right, even if she couldn’t help but be in the center of many men’s minds.

After 30 minutes had passed it was now closer to 4am. Tired, Zach got up from his workstation and turn out the light on the “BeLIEve” sign and affirmed quietly that he did not believe Violetta, not now, not ever.