Goldfish in the Bathtub

Maya felt like a zombie. Actually, scratch that — zombies at least had a purpose. Brains. She was just hollowed out, moving through senior year on autopilot while everyone else seemed to be living their best lives.

"Take your vitamin, honey," her mom said, sliding a orange across the kitchen counter. "You look peaky."

"I'm fine, Mom. Just tired." Again.

She shoved the vitamin in her pocket and grabbed her bag. Tonight was Jordan's party — the first real social event since the breakup, and her stomach was doing that awful twisty thing. Three weeks of radio silence. No texts. No "we need to talk." Just nothing.

The house was dark when she got there. Already people were spilling onto the lawn, red cups in hand, music thumping through the walls like the whole place was alive. Inside, the air smelled like cheap perfume and watermelon something.

She found Chloe by the makeshift dance floor, already dancing with that careless grace Maya had always envied. "You made it!" Chloe yelled over the music, grabbing her hand. "Come on!"

They danced. Or Maya tried. Mostly she just kind of existed there, her movements stiff and awkward while everyone else flowed around her like water around a rock.

That's when she saw him.

Jordan was across the room, laughing with someone else. And maybe it was the weird lighting or her sleep-deprived brain, but for a second he looked different. Not like the guy who'd ghosted her without explanation, but like a stranger. Someone she'd never actually known.

Her phone buzzed. Housesitting gig. Her neighbor's goldfish wasn't eating.

The goldfish. The stupid goldfish she'd been feeding for three days while the Nguyens were out of town. And suddenly it was the most important thing in the world.

"I have to go," she told Chloe, backing away.

"What? But you just got here!"

"Emergency. Fish emergency."

Chloe stared at her like she'd grown another head. "A... fish emergency?"

"It's a long story!" She was already pushing toward the door, past couples making out in corners, past someone whose spilled drink was spreading across the carpet like dark water.

She sat on the Nguyens' bathroom floor for twenty minutes, watching the goldfish float in its little bowl. It was fine. Just being dramatic, like everything else.

But somehow, watching that tiny fish exist in its tiny world, she didn't feel like a zombie anymore. She felt real. Complicated. Maybe a little dramatic. But definitely real.

The vitamin was still in her pocket. She swallowed it dry, finally, and went back to the party.

This time, she danced.