Oranges at Sunset

She found the bottle of vitamin D pills on his nightstand, exactly where she'd left them three months ago. The seal was unbroken.

"You're not taking them," Elena said, her voice flat. Not accusatory. Just tired.

Mark didn't turn from the window. The late afternoon light hit his face at an angle that made him look ten years older than his forty-two. "They don't fix anything, El. They're just—"

"They're supposed to help. The doctor said—"

"The doctor said a lot of things." Finally, he looked at her. His eyes were the same warm brown she'd known since college, but something behind them had gone distant. "He also said I might not see next summer. That there's a thirty percent chance the treatment works. The pills don't change those odds."

They'd been friends for twenty years, through two divorces, her mother's death, his promotion and subsequent burnout. She'd held his hand at his father's funeral. He'd helped her move apartments six times. This was the first time she couldn't fix something for him.

The silence stretched until it became painful.

Elena reached into her bag and pulled out the orange she'd bought at the market on the way over. She peeled it slowly, the citrus scent sharp and clean in the sterile apartment. She sectioned it and held out a piece.

Mark stared at it like he'd never seen fruit before. Then he took it. His fingers brushed hers, and for a second, the old Mark was there—the one who'd made her laugh until she cried during their finals week, the one who'd driven three hours in the rain just to bring her soup when she had the flu.

"Your mother used to buy oranges," he said, his voice rough. "Every Sunday. Said they were happy fruit."

"She did." Elena sat on the edge of his bed. "She also said sometimes the only thing you can do is show up. That the showing up matters more than fixing."

Mark ate the orange section. Juice stained his fingers. For the first time in weeks, something like peace settled on his face.

"I'm scared, El," he whispered.

"I know." She took his hand. "I'm not going anywhere."

Outside, the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of tangerine and coral. Another day ending. But they were still here, still friends, and sometimes that had to be enough.