Morning Rituals

The vitamin C tablet sat on her tongue, sharp and sour, before she washed it down with tap water. 7:02 AM. Three minutes behind schedule. Elena stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror—dark circles under eyes that refused to focus, skin that looked somehow both pale and gray. The wellness regimen was supposed to fix this. The eight supplements. The structured morning routine. The intentional living.

Barnaby, Marcus's cat, wound around her ankles, his orange fur glowing in the harsh fluorescent light. He had been Marcus's emotional support animal, prescribed for anxiety that turned out to be early-onset bipolar disorder. Now Barnaby was hers, though she'd never wanted a pet. He meowed, demanding breakfast, and she stepped over him to reach for the bathroom glass.

The water was cold going down. She thought about Marcus standing in this same spot two years ago, telling her he felt like he was drowning in plain sight. She'd suggested vitamins. Exercise. A gratitude journal. She'd suggested everything except listening.

At work, her boss gave her that look again—the one that said her performance reviews were coming up and she should probably be more visible. More present. Elena nodded and drank water from the office cooler, letting it fill her mouth until her cheeks bulged, swallowing around the lump in her throat. The water dispenser hummed. Someone from accounting mentioned a new supplement protocol they were trying. Vitamin D for seasonal depression. B-complex for energy. Magnesium for sleep.

"You should try it," they said. "It changed everything."

Barnaby was waiting by the door when she got home, his yellow eyes unblinking. He didn't judge. He didn't suggest improvements. He simply existed, his warmth solid and real against her leg when she finally sat on the floor and let herself cry. The vitamin bottle sat on the counter, thirty days' worth of hope in gelatin capsules. She took one, swallowed it without water, and closed her eyes.

Tomorrow she would be better. Tomorrow the routine would work. Tomorrow she would finally feel like she was living instead of just surviving. Barnaby purred, his small body vibrating with an honesty she couldn't quite find in herself anymore, and for the first time all day, she didn't feel like she was underwater.