Bull Market Blues

Marcus had spent three decades riding bulls—first in the dusty arenas of Texas, then in the chrome-and-glass canyons of Wall Street. The leather chaps were gone, replaced by Italian wool suits, but the principle remained the same: stay on top until the eight-second buzzer, or until something else decided you were done.

Tonight, the something else was a margin call that had wiped out half his book by 3 PM.

He found himself running—not away, exactly, just moving. Fifth Avenue was a blur of taxi lights and umbrellas. Rain sheeted down, turning the pavement into a mirror of fractured neon. He shouldered past tourists and commuters, his breath coming harder than it had during any ride.

The water kept rising—metaphorically, professionally, actually. His shoes were soaked through. His portfolio was drowning. And somewhere in a Connecticut suburb, his wife was probably wondering why he hadn't called, why he kept coming home late with whiskey on his breath and the look of a man who'd seen something terrible in the chute.

Marcus ducked into a bodega, dripping on the linoleum. The clerk, an older man with kind eyes, didn't comment on the condition of the suit. Just handed over a bottle of whiskey without being asked.

"Rough day?"

"You could say that."

The clerk nodded toward the television mounted in the corner. Markets were plummeting. Bull run over, the crawler declared. Marcus almost laughed. They always talked about bulls and bears like they were animals you could understand, predict. But the truth was, the market wasn't any animal. It was just thousands of people like him, scared and greedy, all trying not to get thrown.

He bought the bottle and walked back out into the rain. Somewhere behind him, the ticker kept running. Somewhere ahead, his marriage was probably circling the drain. And for the first time in thirty years, Marcus didn't know which animal he was anymore—the rider, or the one that would inevitably be led away to the slaughterhouse when the ride was finally over.

He took a drink, stepped into a puddle, and kept walking.