Corporate Pyramids

Maya stared at the email from HR. Another restructuring. The fourth in eighteen months. She closed her laptop and walked to the apartment complex's pool, the only place she could breathe lately.

The water was still, glass-like in the October twilight. She sat on the edge, legs dangling in, watching the ripples distort her reflection.

"You're here late," said a voice. Greg from 4B, the guy with the pyramid scheme.

"I work late," she said, not turning around. "Unlike some people."

Greg laughed, dry and humorless. He sat beside her, careful not to touch. "The WellnessEscape opportunity collapsed yesterday. If that's what you're thinking."

She glanced at him. His face looked older than thirty-two. "I wasn't."

"You were. Everyone does." He pulled something from his pocket — a can of tuna. "I'm feeding the stray. She comes around dusk."

A cat emerged from the bushes, calico and cautious. Maya watched Greg open the can, his hands steady. She'd judged him instantly when he moved in, with his suits and motivational speaking events. Now she saw something else.

"I lost my job," he said to the cat, not her. "Three days ago."

The cat ate, purring loudly. Maya felt something crack open in her chest.

"I'm being demoted," she said. "Effective Monday. Twenty years with the company, and they're giving my position to someone half my age. Training him starts next week."

Greg nodded. "My ex-wife left when I maxed out our credit cards on WellnessEscape. Said I was chasing shortcuts."

"Were you?"

He looked at the pool, where the underwater lights had flickered on. "I wanted to believe I could build something that mattered. Instead I built a pyramid of debt."

The cat finished eating and rubbed against Maya's ankle. She reached down, surprised by her own instinct to touch something living. The cat's fur was warm.

"You know what they say about pyramids," Maya said. "The person at the top gets carried forever. Everyone else just gets buried underneath."

Greg smiled, almost genuine. "We could start our own pyramid. You and me and this cat. Figure out what actually matters."

Maya looked at him — really looked — and saw someone who'd lost everything but was still feeding strays. She looked at the pool, where her reflection rippled with possibility.

"I'm Maya," she said.

"Greg." He offered his hand.

The cat curled between them, purring. For the first time in months, Maya didn't feel like she was drowning.