Fox in the Feed

Maya's fingers hovered over the unfollow button for the third time today. Her crush, Alex, had posted yet another story about his "wellness journey" — something about papaya smoothies and gut health. She'd created a fake account just to keep tabs on him after he'd moved across the country last summer. Pathetic, maybe. But necessary.

Her best friend Kai called it "spying," but Maya preferred "social research." Besides, it wasn't like she was commenting or liking. Just watching. Observing. Learning that Alex now listened to indie folk and apparently cared about organic produce.

"You need a vitamin D supplement," her mom had said that morning, sliding a orange bottle across the kitchen counter. "You're always inside, always on your phone. You're gonna get depressed."

Maya had rolled her eyes but pocketed the bottle anyway. Whatever.

At school, she'd changed her entire personality to match what she'd learned from stalking Alex's socials. She'd started carrying a reusable water bottle. She'd dropped her favorite pop-punk bands for something more "chill." She'd even tried papaya once, gagging through the whole experience because apparently it was his favorite fruit.

The worst part? It was working. People noticed the "new Maya." She was getting invited to things. She was becoming... interesting.

But then Alex posted a story: "Back in town for the weekend! Who wants to hang?"

Maya's heart did that stupid fluttery thing. She could finally hang out with the real Alex, not just the curated version she'd been studying from afar.

But when they met at the coffee shop, something felt off. Alex wasn't talking about wellness or music. He was complaining about how fake his online persona had become, how he'd started posting about health stuff because his ex was super into it, how he actually hated papaya but kept pretending to love it.

"It's exhausting, right?" Alex said. "Being someone you're not just to fit in?"

Maya stared at him. She'd spent months remodeling herself into someone she thought he'd want, and he'd done the exact same thing.

"Yeah," she said slowly. "It really is."

They ended up talking for three hours about their real interests — her secret love for trashy reality TV, his obsession with vintage video games. By the time they left, Maya had deleted the fake account.

Some foxes, she decided, didn't need to hide in the shadows. Some could just be themselves.