Dead Summer Riddles

I felt like a literal zombie all summer. Between the breakup texts haunting my every waking moment and the existential dread of junior year looming, I was basically the walking dead. My friends kept dragging me out, trying to resuscitate my social life with increasingly desperate pool parties.

That's how I ended up at Chloe's backyard pool, nursing a lukewarm soda while everyone else acted like life was perfect. I was mid-spiral, overthinking why Marcus hadn't responded to my story, when Sasha materialized beside me. She was this enigmatic senior who everyone called "the sphinx" because she'd show up, drop some cryptic wisdom that made your brain hurt, then disappear.

"You look like you're drowning in the shallow end," she said, not unkindly. "What's the riddle you can't solve?"

I stared at her. Was she actually asking me to open up, or was this just another sphinx moment where she'd make me feel dumb for caring too much? But something about her directness cut through my zombie brain fog.

"I don't know who I am without him," I admitted, the words tasting like failure. "Pathetic, right?"

Sasha considered this, tapping her manicured nails against her cup. "Or maybe you're just realizing you were never his to begin with. You've been solving the wrong riddle."

She didn't wait for my response—classic sphinx behavior—but her words ricocheted through my skull all night. I watched my friends laughing in the pool, water streaming from their hair like they'd been reborn, and suddenly I wasn't the zombie anymore. I was just me, messy and unfinished and weirdly okay with that.

"Hey," I called out, kicking off my flip-flops. "Who wants to play zombie tag?"

Sometimes the best riddles aren't solved—they're outgrown.