Electric Current

The spinach salad sat untouched between them, wilting under the fluorescent glare of the restaurant. Sarah picked at her wine glass, avoiding Mara's eyes across the table.

"You haven't been returning my calls," Mara said, her voice tight.

Sarah looked up. The lightning flashed outside, illuminating the exhaustion etched into Mara's features. "I needed space. The merger—the stress—it was drowning me."

"So you pushed away the only person who's been swimming through the same shit water as you for fifteen years?" Mara's laugh was sharp, bitter. "That's rich."

The server came by, topped off their water glasses. Sarah watched the ripples settle, thinking about how they'd met fresh out of business school, both certain they'd change the world. Now they were senior VPs at competing firms, hollowed out by the same industry that had promised them everything.

"I saw David at the conference," Sarah said quietly.

Mara's face flickered with something—hurt, anger, maybe just weariness. "And?"

"He asked about you. Asked if you're still unhappy."

"My personal life is not water cooler gossip, Sarah."

"I'm not gossiping. I'm—" Sarah stopped. The truth sat heavy in her throat. "I'm worried about you."

Another flash of lightning, closer this time. The restaurant's ambient jazz warbled, then cut out completely. In the sudden quiet, Mara's expression softened.

"I'm leaving him," she said. "The firm too. I bought a ticket to Costa Rica. One-way."

The spinach between them seemed suddenly absurd. Sarah felt something crack open in her chest—not quite jealousy, not quite relief. Just the recognition of a door closing that she'd thought would always stay open.

"When?"

"Two weeks. I was hoping..." Mara's voice caught. "I was hoping my best friend might help me pack."

The rain started then, sudden and torrential, as if the sky had finally decided to say what needed saying. Sarah reached across the table, her fingers finding Mara's. Some currents, she realized, were worth diving into—even when they pulled you under.