Bull Market, Bare Heart

Maria pressed her sweating **palm** against the cold glass of her thirty-fifth floor office, watching the city below blur into gray nothingness. Inside, the trading floor still roared—her team had ridden the **bull** market to record gains this quarter, but the victory felt hollow, like applause at a funeral.

Her daily **vitamin** regimen sat untouched on her desk. Another thing she couldn't bring herself to care about anymore.

After work, she found herself at a beach at dusk, stripping down to her underwear and walking into the ocean. The salt water stung her skin as she began **swimming**—no destination, no purpose, just movement against the current, away from the promotions and the dividend charts and the empty apartment waiting for her return.

"Maria?"

It was Julian, her junior analyst, standing on the sand in his suit pants, shirt untucked.

"I'm fine," she called back, though she wasn't sure if she was speaking to him or herself.

"You know," he said, sitting at the water's edge, "my grandfather used to say the ocean doesn't care about your bull market returns."

Maria stopped **swimming**, treading water as the waves pushed against her. "What are you doing here?"

"Same thing as you. Except I left my clothes on the beach like a sane person."

They walked back together as darkness fell. Julian's hand brushed hers—just a moment of warmth against her wet, cold skin.

"My wife left me," he said quietly. "Said I married my job."

Maria thought about the divorce papers sitting in her own drawer, unsigned for three months. "Maybe some people aren't built for both."

"Or maybe," Julian said, "we're just swimming in the wrong direction."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle. "Vitamin D. My doctor says I don't get enough sun anymore. You want one?"

Maria looked at his outstretched **palm**, the white pill catching the moonlight. She took it without hesitation, and for the first time in months, she didn't feel like she was drowning. The bull market could wait.