Exit Interview

Marie watched the goldfish in the lobby aquarium swim its endless laps, orange scales catching the morning light. Three years she'd worked at this company, and that fish had more freedom than she felt most days.

"You're really doing it?" Sarah asked, sliding into the chair beside her. They'd been office friends since Marie's first week—shared coffees, vented about toxic bosses, survived the holiday party where Marie kissed the wrong VP. "Leaving without a backup plan?"

Marie fingered the vitamin D supplement in her pocket. Doctor said her levels were critically low, said she needed sunlight. What she really needed was to stop spending twelve hours a day under fluorescent lights that buzzed like trapped insects.

"I can't do it anymore," Marie said. "Yesterday, I caught myself explaining the corporate pyramid—how we're all building someone else's empire—to an intern. And I believed it. That's when I knew."

Sarah laughed, but her eyes held that tired look Marie saw in the mirror daily. "I'd join you. Mortgage says otherwise."

Outside, lightning split the sky, a sudden crack that made the receptionist jump. The storm had been brewing for days, much like the knot in Marie's chest.

"Remember that client last year?" Sarah said. "The one who wanted us to redesign their entire brand overnight? You said no. I'd never seen anyone stand up to Michael like that."

"I threw up in the bathroom after."

"Still. You did it."

Marie's phone buzzed—the movers were ready. She stood, gathering the box with her desk plant, her coffee mug, a framed photo of her mother. The goldfish swam past again, oblivious, content in its glass prison.

"I'll write," Marie said at the elevator. "Get those vitamin levels checked, Sarah. Seriously."

Sarah's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Sure. Have fun saving the world."

The elevator doors closed between them, a metal mouth swallowing Marie whole. She'd write, she told herself. She'd write and she'd call and they'd remain friends, the way people always promised. But she already knew the truth: some exits are final, some friendships are transactional as the work that brought them together, and sometimes the bravest thing you can do is swim alone into unfamiliar waters.