Drowning in Bull Market

The vitamin sat on her tongue, bitter and small—a daily reminder that her body required maintenance even as her world collapsed around her. Sarah swallowed it without water, the dry pill scratching her throat like everything else in this godforsaken week.

"Bullish on Q4," the memo had said. Bullshit, more like. The entire trading floor had gone quiet at 2 PM when the announcement dropped—massive fraud, years in the making. Now the glass towers of financial district felt less like monuments to ambition and more like aquariums where they were all slowly drowning.

Marcus from compliance found her in the break room, staring at the water cooler as if it might offer answers. "Heard anything about severance?" he asked, voice cracking.

She shook her head. The fluorescent lights hummed, an insect-like drone that made her teeth ache. "Just that we should expect updates. Corporate's 'committed to transparency.'"

Marcus laughed, a sharp broken sound. "Right. Did you know the word 'bull' originally meant 'deception'? Like, literally—bull semen sold as something more valuable? That's us. We're the bull market."

Sarah watched the water bubbles rise in the cooler, endless and meaningless. "My dad had a saying about water and tides," she said suddenly. "'When the tide goes out, you see who's been swimming naked.' Warren Buffett, actually, but Dad quoted it like scripture."

"We're all naked now, Sarah."

Her phone buzzed—her husband asking about dinner. The absurdity of it hit her like a physical blow. The vitamin bottle in her pocket, the mortgage, the carefully curated LinkedIn profile—tiny life rafts in a sea of worthless stock options and evaporated pensions.

She thought about the traders on thirty, some of whom had jumped rather than face the shame. The Hudson would be cold this time of year. Water didn't judge; it just accepted whatever you gave it.

"Hey," Marcus said, reading her expression. "Don't. We'll figure something out."

Sarah forced a smile. "I know. It's just—we built all this on nothing. Houses, careers, identities. And now it's just... gone."

"Not gone," he said. "Just underwater. For now."

She nodded, already calculating which vitamins to cut from her budget, which bills to pay first. The bull market had trampled them, but she'd been trampled before. She'd learned how to breathe in shallow waters, how to float when you couldn't swim.

"Let's get a drink," Marcus said.

"After work," she said. "I have calls to make."

The vitamin was still bitter in her mouth, but she was alive. That counted for something.