Fox at the Padel Court

The fox appeared at dawn, padding across the padel court as if it owned the place. I watched from the balcony, my cup of water gone cold, while Elena slept in the guest room again.

Three months of Sunday morning padel matches with Marcus and Sofia—our 'couple friends'—and I'd never noticed how the fox watched us. Especially when Marcus served, his hat tilted just so, and Elena leaned forward to receive, her laughter too bright, too practiced.

That morning, I found spinach stuck between Elena's back teeth when she kissed me goodbye. 'You have something,' I said, and she froze. That was when I noticed: Marcus always ordered the spinach salad at lunch. Always. And Elena always teased him about it.

The divorce papers sat on the kitchen counter like a third roommate. We'd agreed to wait until after the padel tournament. 'One last normal weekend,' she'd said. 'For appearances.'

The fox on the court below looked up at me, intelligent eyes knowing everything. Water dripped from the roof after last night's rain, each drop a second ticking toward some inevitable end.

Elena appeared behind me, wrapped in my robe. 'Marcus left his hat here yesterday,' she said, lifting it from the chair where it definitely hadn't been before. 'He's coming by to pick it up.'

'When?' I asked, though the answer hung between us like smoke.

'While you're playing padel with Sofia.' She touched my shoulder, then pulled away. 'I'll make sure the spinach salad is ready.'

The fox dipped its head to the court, perhaps finding something left behind from yesterday's matches. Something that didn't belong to it, but that it claimed anyway.

'About the papers,' I started.

'Sign them,' she said. 'I'll sign mine too.'

The fox trotted away toward the woods, pausing once to look back, as if checking that we understood what we were throwing away. I watched it go, my water glass forgotten, knowing that after today, Sunday mornings would never taste the same.