Goldfish Memories and Vitamin Dreams

Maya's life had become a certified zombie apocalypse, except instead of brains, everyone at Northwood High was consuming AP credits and college applications like they were going out of style. She dragged herself through the hallway, Instagram-stalking Blake's new girlfriend—basically acting like a low-key spy at 16, which was pathetic even by her own depressed standards.

Her dog, Barnaby, waited by the door like the unemployed sibling who lived rent-free in her parents' house. Maya considered taking one of those stress vitamins her mom kept pushing—"for focus, honey, for your future"—but honestly, she'd rather mainline espresso and suffer.

That's when she found her brother's goldfish, Toast, floating belly-up in its bowl. Toast had been her emotional support animal since freshman year, back when she still believed in things like "natural glow" and "people who actually like you."

"You're not actually a spy, you know," her brother Leo said, appearing behind her. He meant the Instagram stalking, which apparently she did with the stealth of a elephant in a library. "Also, Toast died three days ago. I told you to flush him."

Maya stared at the goldfish. "I'm keeping him as a metaphor."

"For what, your love life?"

"For everything."

Her phone buzzed—Blake had posted a story. Maya resisted the urge to spy. Instead, she popped the vitamin, fed Barnaby, and realized something: high school was just one long zombie movie where everyone eventually graduated. She texted her best friend: "Do you ever feel like we're trapped in a simulation designed to break our spirits?"

The reply came instantly: "Lmao no but did you see Tyler's hair today"

Maya smiled. Maybe that was the point. You could be a zombie spy with a dead goldfish and vitamin-induced focus, but somehow, you'd still notice Tyler's hair. Somehow, that was enough.