Geometry of Loss

The hotel pool sat empty at dawn, its surface still except for the occasional ripple from the wind. Sarah sat at the edge, her feet in the water, nursing a gin and tonic she'd convinced the bartender to make at six in the morning. Her sister's wedding had ended hours ago, but she couldn't sleep. The Egyptian sun would soon rise over the pyramids in the distance—ancient monuments to human ambition, to the way we build things to last while our own lives crumble.

A stray cat emerged from the landscaping, white with one gray ear. It regarded her with yellow eyes before approaching without hesitation, as if recognizing a fellow insomniac. Sarah had never liked cats particularly, but something about this one's directness appealed to her. She offered it a piece of the gourmet salmon she'd pocketed from the reception, watching it eat with delicate precision.

"You're not supposed to be here either, are you?" she whispered.

The cat responded with a soft chirp, then settled beside her, watching the pool's reflection as the sky began to lighten.

Sarah thought about Marcus, who'd left her three months ago with a speech about how they'd grown apart, how he needed to find himself. Last week, she'd seen his new girlfriend on Instagram—twenty-six, a travel blogger who'd recently posted a photo from these very pyramids. The algorithm's cruelty knew no bounds.

"You know what they say about pyramids," she told the cat, whose gray ear twitched. "They were built by slaves. By people who had no choice. We visit them and marvel at the engineering, but the cost is right there in the stones."

The cat stood, stretched, and looked toward the main building where a few early risers were beginning to emerge. Then it turned back to Sarah and meowed once, decisively, before padding away toward the service entrance.

Sarah finished her drink in one swallow and stood up. The water felt surprisingly warm against her legs. She'd check out, catch an earlier flight. There was work piling up anyway, and her apartment—small, cluttered, hers—was waiting.

Behind her, the first sunlight struck the pyramid's apex, gold against gold. Some things did last. Some things could be counted on. She would be one of them.