Chlorine and Orange Rinds

The pool was still. That was the first thing Sarah noticed when she let herself into Marcus's house—no laps, no splashing, just the unmoving blue water that had cost thirty thousand dollars and become the centerpiece of their marriage's slow unraveling.

Barnaby, their elderly orange tabby, wound himself around her ankles, demanding the tribute he'd been denied since Marcus moved out last Tuesday. Sarah emptied a can of tuna into his bowl, watching him devour it with the single-minded greed that she used to find charming. Now it just reminded her of how everything consumed: time, affection, trust.

On the counter, the vitamin organizer sat where she'd left it—Monday through Sunday, each little plastic compartment filled with the supplements Marcus swore were essential for longevity. Vitamin D for his bones, omega-3 for his heart, B-complex for stress. She'd taken them religiously every morning with coffee, performing this ritual of care alongside him, while he was texting her sister. The irony hadn't escaped her.

She picked up the Tuesday slot and dumped the contents into the sink. They scattered like multicolored confetti across the porcelain.

The real estate agent would be here at noon. Sarah needed to retrieve her mother's jewelry and the good china, the things Marcus had "accidentally" packed during his hasty departure. She found the jewelry box in his bedroom closet, opened it. Everything was there except the pearl earrings—her grandmother's, the ones she'd worn at their wedding.

Barnaby appeared in the doorway, watching her with his unblinking yellow eyes.

"Did he give them to someone?" she asked the cat. "Or just lose them like he lost everything else?"

The pool glowed through the sliding glass doors, pristine and useless, like their wedding photos still lining the hallway. Sarah walked outside and stood at the edge. The water reflected her face back—thirty-four, exhausted, about to be divorced, taking prenatal vitamins for a baby she wasn't sure she wanted to keep. Or maybe she'd switch back to the regular ones. She hadn't decided yet.

She took off her wedding ring and dropped it into the pool. It sank without a splash, joining the other things they'd buried beneath the surface over seven years.

Barnaby meowed from the deck, demanding dinner despite his full bowl. Some things, Sarah decided as she turned toward the door, never changed their appetite.