Corporate Resurrection

The hotel pool shimmered with that artificial blue that only exists in places where no one actually swims. Elena sat on the edge, her legs in the water, clutching her third gin and tonic. The corporate retreat was in full swing around her—her coworkers already transformed by alcohol and proximity into versions of themselves she barely recognized.

"You look like a zombie," Mark said, dropping onto the lounge chair beside her. He was her friend, or at least the person she smoked with outside the building during quarterly crunch time. "Seriously. You've been staring at the same spot for ten minutes."

Elena ran her fingers through her hair, realizing she hadn't washed it since Thursday. The stress of the merger had her shedding more than sleep lately. "I'm having an existential crisis, Mark. It happens."

He laughed, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Join the club. Did you hear about the betting pool?"

"There's a pool?"

"Everyone's taking bets on who gets fired first after the acquisition." He held up his phone, showing her a spreadsheet. "I put fifty on Jenkins from Accounting. Guy hasn't been right since his wife left."

Elena's stomach turned. "That's disgusting."

"It's how we cope." Mark touched her palm, his fingers warm and slightly clammy. The contact sent a jolt through her—not quite desire, but something close. Desperation, maybe. They'd been dancing around each other for months, both too exhausted and too cynical to make the first move.

"I put money on myself," he admitted quietly. "Twenty bucks."

"Why?"

He looked at her really looked at her. "Because I can't do this anymore, El. This place. This life. Wake up, commute, pretend to care about quarterly projections, come home to an empty apartment. I'm twenty-seven and I already feel like I've been embalmed."

Elena thought about the first day they'd met, how he'd made her laugh during orientation. She thought about the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck when he was tired. She thought about the spreadsheet on his phone and how much money she'd bet on herself without ever writing it down.

"I'd bet on us," she said, surprising both of them. "If there was a pool for who makes it out. I'd put everything on us."

Mark's grip on her palm tightened. The pool lights flickered on, casting everything in an underwater glow. Somewhere in the distance, their coworkers laughed like they meant it. But here, on the edge, something in the air shifted—quiet, terrifying, and alive.