Drowning in Gold

The receptionist had handed her a goldfish in a plastic bag as a wedding favor—some absurd touch at a destination ceremony that now felt like another lifetime. Elena sat by the resort pool, watching the orange creature dart between ceramic lily pads, while David sat three loungers away, his face illuminated by his iPhone's ghostly glow.

They'd come to Egypt to save their marriage. Instead, they were cataloging its decomposition in real-time.

"I'm just clearing emails," David had said two hours ago, though she'd watched him scroll through Instagram, his thumb moving with the same mechanical rhythm that used to stroke her hair during movies.

Her hair, now blonde-streaked and expensive, fell over her face as she leaned closer to the pool. She used to be a brunette when they met. Used to be someone who didn't need quarterly highlights to feel seen.

Water lapped at the pool's edge, gentle and indifferent. She thought about jumping in—fully clothed, iPhone-less, just to feel something that wasn't this crushing weight of disappointment. David wouldn't notice until he finished whatever digital thread he was pulling, unraveling the silence between them knot by careful knot.

The resort's centerpiece was a marble sphinx, its wings spread wide, its face eroded by centuries and tourists alike. Riddles, it seemed to promise. Answers, it never gave.

What was the riddle of two people who'd loved each other desperately, then not at all, then couldn't remember which version was true?

The goldfish surfaced, mouth breaking the water's surface in a tiny gasp. She watched it sink back into the chlorinated depths, orange fading to rust, then disappearing.

"David," she called out, not looking at him. "Do you remember what we promised each other at the rehearsal?"

The sphinx offered nothing. The goldfish swam in endless circles. And David, finally glancing up from his phone, met her eyes with the gentle confusion of a man who'd forgotten the question years ago.