Love and Death on the Court

The divorce papers sat on the kitchen counter next to a wilting bag of spinach. Elena stared at both, equally unappetizing.

"You're not eating again," Marcus said, breezing in with his padel racquet—the expensive carbon-fiber one he'd bought last month with their savings. "Come play. It's good for you."

Elena's mother, dying in the guest room, coughed weakly from behind closed doors. The sound was wet, heavy.

"I'm making smoothies," Elena said, indicating the spinach. "For Mom. She can't swallow solids anymore."

Marcus paused, racquet still in hand. Their golden retriever, Buster, wheezed at his feet. The dog was fourteen now, same age as their marriage.

"That's..." Marcus trailed off. " depressing."

"It's life, Marcus."

He left anyway. Elena heard his car start, the sound fading down the driveway.

In the guest room, her mother opened one eye. "He's leaving, isn't he?"

Elena nodded, blending spinach and banana into something medicinal-looking.

"Good," her mother whispered. "The dog knows. Animals always know."

Buster had taken to sleeping in the guest room, pressed against the bed's edge as if guarding something. Not her mother, Elena realized suddenly. He was guarding the space between them.

The front door opened hours later. Marcus returned, sweat on his forehead, padel gear in hand. He stopped when he saw Elena sitting in the dark, the divorce papers spread across the table like a game gone wrong.

"What's this?"

"Game point," Elena said. Buster lifted his head, thumped his tail once against the floor.

Outside, the spinach smoothie sat untouched on the counter. Somewhere, a clock ticked. The game was over, and only the dog seemed to know who had actually won.