Cable Fox, Swimming in Debt

The cable guy was late, which meant Marcus had time to finish his whiskey and stare at the blank television screen where his marriage used to be. Three months since Elena left, and he'd finally called to get the cable reconnected—some pathetic attempt to fill the silence that had settled over his apartment like heavy snow.

"Sorry for the wait," the technician said, kneeling by the wall. "Been swimming through service calls all morning."

Swimming. The word caught in Marcus's throat. That's what he and Elena had done on their first date, drunk and midnight skinny-dipping in her neighbor's pool. They'd climbed the fence, she'd dared him, and they'd buoyed themselves on champagne and lust, making promises they'd eventually break.

"You okay, man?" the technician asked. Marcus realized he'd been gripping the counter edge, knuckles white.

"Fine. Just... memories."

The guy nodded, like he'd seen a thousand people drowning in their own living rooms. He threaded the cable through the wall with practiced efficiency. "You got a fox hanging around your property?"

Marcus blinked. "A what?"

"A fox. Saw one darting around back when I pulled up. Beautiful thing, red as hell. Bold, too." The technician secured the connection. "Probably eating garbage or something. But still."

Marcus went to the window. There, amid the overgrown backyard—Elena's garden, now wild—sat a red fox, tail curled around its paws, watching him with amber eyes that seemed uncomfortably intelligent. It lifted its head, teeth glinting in a grin that looked almost human.

"That's... not typical," Marcus said.

"City's pushing them out of their habitats. They adapt." The technician stood, wiping his hands. "Your signal should work now. You pay online, right?"

Marcus nodded, still watching the fox. When he looked back, the technician was gone, and the TV flickered to life—some reality show where people were shouting about nothing.

The fox remained in the yard, meeting his gaze through the glass. Marcus pressed his palm against the window, and the creature did the same—or it looked like it did, from here. Two displaced things, swimming in borrowed territory, making the best of a world that had forgotten them both.

He poured another drink and left the TV on mute. At least now he had company.