Cable to Nowhere

Marcus stared at the coaxial **cable** snaking across his living room floor, a physical manifestation of everything that had gone wrong with his marriage. Elena had ripped it from the wall during their third anniversary argument—one he hadn't even realized they were having until she was screaming at him.

"You're like a **bull** in a china shop," she'd said, throwing the cable. "Crashing through everything without noticing what you break."

He took his **vitamin** D supplement with lukewarm coffee, something the doctor insisted on after his bloodwork came back "concerning." At thirty-five, feeling brittle and light-deprived seemed pathetic. But then, so did sleeping in his home office while Elena occupied their bedroom with her new life, one that increasingly didn't seem to include him.

The community pool opened at six. Marcus began **swimming** daily, not for exercise but for the quiet. Underwater, muffled and weightless, he could almost remember who he was before the promotions, before the mortgage, before love had curdled into resentful tolerance. He'd met Elena at this same pool fifteen years ago—she'd been the lifeguard who'd laughed when he'd slipped and fallen on the wet deck, then helped him up with gentle hands.

Now she couldn't touch him without flinching.

That morning, found her at the kitchen table, her wedding rings lined up precisely beside his untouched vitamin bottle. The cable lay forgotten between them like a dead snake.

"Marcus," she said softly. "I'm not happy. I haven't been for a long time."

The water hadn't saved him after all. But as he nodded, something broke loose in his chest—maybe the same bull-like quality she'd always hated, that obstinate hope that things would simply work themselves out if he waited long enough.

"I know," he said. "Neither am I."

He packed his things that afternoon. The vitamin bottle went in the trash. The cable stayed where it lay.