Disconnect

The padel court sat empty beneath an unforgiving midday sun, its artificial turf blindingly green against the charcoal sky. Elena sat on the metal bench, Bruno—the elderly golden retriever she'd inherited from her mother three months ago—resting his grizzled muzzle on her knee. His once-golden hair was now frosted with white, much like her own reflection she'd stopped examining in mirrors.

Her iphone buzzed against the bench—the third time in twenty minutes. *Tom*. She let it ring.

The charging cable dangled from her bag like a severed umbilical, a reminder she'd forgotten to plug in last night. Some things you couldn't keep connected, no matter how hard you tried.

"You're better at this than I am," she told Bruno, scratching behind his ears. He thumped his tail, once, twice—approval without judgment. The dog had grieved with quiet dignity when her mother died, then simply kept going. No overthinking. No analysis paralysis. Just wake up, eat, walk, sleep. Animals had it figured out.

The padel racket rested beside her, its grip worn smooth from three years of Tuesday night games with friends she'd been avoiding lately. Friends who asked how she was doing, who meant well, whose concern felt like sandpaper against raw skin.

Her phone chimed—a text this time. *I'm outside the court.*

Elena stood, knees popping, Bruno rising with synchronized effort. Through the chain-link fence, a figure approached: David, her mother's hospice nurse, carrying two coffees and wearing an expression that managed to be both tentative and resolved.

"I know what you're thinking," he said, not meeting her eyes. "That this is weird. That I shouldn't have texted. That you're not ready."

She touched her hair—loose today, still damp from the shower—and realized she was smiling. Just slightly. "I was thinking I forgot my racket."

David's shoulders dropped an inch. He held out a paper cup. "I figured we could walk Bruno instead. The park's two blocks over. And if you want to talk about your mother, or don't want to, or just want to drink bad coffee and complain about the weather..."

Bruno nudged David's hand with his nose, already decided.

Elena looked at her silent phone, the coiled cable, the empty court where she'd spent months avoiding anything that felt like moving forward. Then she took the coffee.

"Just coffee first," she said. "We'll see about the rest."