Corporate Necromancy

Marcus found himself swimming laps at 11 PM, the only soul in the apartment complex pool. The water swallowed his thoughts, if only for an hour. Tomorrow's quarterly review loomed — another ritual sacrifice at the altar of the corporate pyramid, where he'd spent fifteen years climbing toward an apex that kept receding.

He emerged from the pool, dripping, to find Sarah waiting on a deck chair. They'd slept together three weeks ago after the holiday party, before she'd mentioned she was up for the same promotion. The awkwardness hadn't quite killed whatever chemistry they'd sparked.

"You're like a zombie," she said, handing him a towel. "I saw you from my window. Swimming in circles."

He laughed, bitter. "That's corporate life, isn't it? We're all zombies feeding on spreadsheets. I made spinach smoothies for a week once. Thought if I ate healthy, I'd stop feeling dead inside."

Sarah moved closer, her hand finding his wet shoulder. "My ex joined an MLM last year. Kept talking about building his pyramid to freedom. He ended up selling his car to buy inventory."

The water lapped against the pool's edge. Marcus looked at Sarah — really looked at her. They were two middle-aged casualties of the same war, trying to remember what it felt like to want something real.

"Fuck the promotion," Marcus said. "Come swimming with me."

Sarah smiled, stripping down to her underwear. "Better make it worth it."

They jumped in together, clothed, bodies disrupting the quiet surface. For the first time in months, Marcus didn't feel like he was drowning.