Objects in the Rearview Mirror

Maria sat at the kitchen table, palm resting against her cool forehead, the apartment around her echoingly quiet. The goldfish—David's goldfish, the one he'd won at that seaside carnival three years ago—swam in its bowl on the counter, oblivious, orange scales catching morning light. She'd forgotten to feed it yesterday. Or maybe the day before. Time had blurred since she found the texts.

Her iPhone lit up with another notification she couldn't bring herself to check. The device felt heavy in her hand, a vessel containing three years of messages, photos, and now, evidence of betrayal. She'd stopped scrolling at 2 AM, somewhere around October, when the innocuous work lunches had started turning into something else.

The dog, Buster, nudged her knee with his wet nose, whining. He'd been David's shadow since they'd adopted him from that shelter in Queens. Now he looked at her with those mournful eyes, sensing the shift in the apartment's atmosphere, the way dogs do before the humans admit anything's wrong.

Maria peeled an orange from the fruit bowl, its citrus scent sharp and comforting. She used to eat one every morning while David made coffee, standing at this same table, discussing their days ahead. The routine had been ordinary, perfect in its mundanity. She hadn't known she was already living the best part.

Her phone buzzed again—David this time. *Can we talk?* She watched the message appear, then watched another bubble form and disappear. He was typing, then stopping. The push and pull of someone who'd destroyed everything but couldn't quite let go.

She set the orange on a napkin, untouched. Buster settled at her feet with a sigh. The goldfish continued its endless laps around its bowl. The three of them, the accidental leftovers of someone else's life.

Maria stood up, grabbing the box of trash bags from under the sink. She'd start with the bathroom, work her way to the closet. By evening, the apartment would be hollow, ready for whatever came next. The goldfish, she decided, she'd keep. Some things deserved better than being thrown away.