Fox in a Zombie World

Maya's cat, Nimbus, had better social skills than she did. At least Nimbus didn't overthink every text message or have panic attacks about which table to sit at in the cafeteria.

"You look like a zombie," said Jordan, sliding into the seat across from her. His hoodie was inside out—again. "Did you actually sleep last night, or...?"

Maya groaned into her backpack. "Parent-teacher conferences. My mom's on a warpath about my 'lack of academic focus.' Meanwhile, I've been up since 3 AM finishing that English essay."

Jordan fished a crumpled paper from his pocket. "Want me to read it? I'm surprisingly good at pretending to understand symbolism."

"Hard pass." But she smiled. Jordan had been her best friend since sixth grade, back when friendship was still simple—sharing snacks and laughing too loud. Now everything felt complicated, like walking through a minefield of unspoken words and almost-moments.

They'd barely spoken since the incident at Chloe's party two weeks ago. The one where Jordan had almost said something, and Maya had almost wanted him to, and then they'd both pretended nothing happened at all.

"My phone's blowing up," Jordan said, though he made no move to check it. "Chloe's group chat is discussing whether I'm officially 'cancelled' after Saturday. Apparently I'm not vibing with their aesthetic anymore."

Maya's stomach tightened. "What did you do?"

"Exists, apparently." He finally looked at her, something unreadable in his expression. "They don't get why I'd rather hang out with someone who's, like, actually real. Someone who doesn't treat people like NPCs in their personal reality show."

The air between them suddenly felt charged, electric. Like the moment before thunder.

"You're a fox, Jordan," she said softly, surprised by her own bravery. "You slip away whenever things get too real."

He didn't look away. "Maybe I'm just tired of running."

Her phone buzzed—her mom, inevitably. But for the first time, Maya didn't immediately check it didn't immediately apologize for existing. She just sat there, heart pounding, realizing that sometimes the scariest thing wasn't zombies or rumors or failing classes.

It was finally staying still enough to let yourself want something.