Corporate Goldfish

Maya pressed her forehead against the cold glass of her office window, thirty-seven floors above the city. Below, the commuters moved like clockwork toys, but up here, she felt like a zombie—alive only in the technical sense, her soul hollowed out by quarterly reports and strategic alignment meetings.

She'd spent the last three months investigating whether her colleague Chen was a corporate spy. His expense reports didn't add up. Late nights. Unexplained trips to their competitor's headquarters. Every time she confronted him, he deflected with that infuriating smile, treating her suspicions like a joke between friends.

"You need to eat something," her therapist had said yesterday. "You're forgetting to take care of yourself."

So Maya had bought a goldfish. A tiny orange creature with protruding eyes, swimming in endless circles around its bowl. She named it Conviction, because it kept going around and around, never questioning its path, never wondering if there was something more.

Tonight, the office was empty except for her and Chen. He'd appeared at her desk at 8 PM, carrying takeout containers. "Thai food," he said. "You haven't eaten since yesterday."

They sat on the floor of her office, sharing pad thai and som tum. Maya bit into something crisp and fresh—spinach, perhaps, or maybe it was morning glory. For a moment, she wasn't a zombie investigator. She wasn't the woman who'd forgotten how to trust. She was just hungry.

"I know what you're doing," Chen said quietly, not looking at her. "The background checks. The requests for my travel records."

Maya's throat tightened. "You're stealing client data."

Chen laughed, surprised and genuine. "What? No. I've been flying to Chicago every weekend because my mom has early-stage Alzheimer's. I didn't tell HR because I don't want them to know I might need extended leave soon."

The silence stretched between them, heavy with embarrassment.

"Oh," Maya said.

"Yeah. Oh." Chen bumped his shoulder against hers. "But thanks for checking. At least someone cares about security around here."

That night, Maya fed Conviction and watched the fish swim its endless loop. Maybe she was the goldfish, circling the same assumptions, trapped in her transparent bowl of cynicism. Maybe it was time to jump.