Division of Property

The goldfish floated at the top of its bowl, its orange scales catching the afternoon light as if nothing had changed. Sarah watched it for a long moment, trying to remember whose idea it had been to buy it three years ago. Probably Marcus's—he'd always loved things that required minimal maintenance.

"You can take him," she said, not looking at Marcus as she sealed another cardboard box. "I don't want him to die on my watch."

Marcus laughed, that dry, familiar sound that used to make her feel safe. "Goldfish are supposed to have three-second memories, you know. Maybe I should trade places with it."

"Don't." She pressed the tape down hard. "Don't make jokes."

The cat, Luna, wound herself around Sarah's legs, purring loudly. Sarah had already decided: Luna was hers. Marcus was allergic anyway, or so he claimed whenever he didn't want to clean the litter box. Some things about a person you only learn after the shine wears off.

"What about the spinach?" Marcus asked, gesturing toward the refrigerator where a bag of organic spinach had been slowly wilting for two weeks. Neither of them had cooked a real meal since the night she told him she was leaving.

"Throw it out. We're not splitting produce, Marcus."

"It's organic," he said, pathetic hope in his voice. "Cost seven dollars."

"Then take it. Take the spinach and the goldfish and your half of the furniture. Start over."

He looked at her then, really looked at her, and she saw the exact moment he understood this wasn't a temporary separation. This was it. The spinach wasn't about seven dollars—it was about the last time they'd gone to Whole Foods together, pretending they were still the kind of couple who cooked healthy meals and had houseplants that didn't die.

"I don't want the spinach," Marcus said quietly. "I want you to remember that I loved you enough to buy organic spinach even though I hate the taste."

Sarah felt something crack inside her chest. She watched the goldfish break the surface, its mouth opening and closing in silent demand.

"Take the fish," she whispered. "Take him and remember that I stayed because I loved you enough to take care of something that was supposed to die in three weeks, but it's been three years and it's still swimming. That's what love is, Marcus. It's keeping things alive that should have died a long time ago."

Marcus nodded once, reached for the fish bowl, and didn't look back as he walked out the door.