Poolside Resurrection

The corporate retreat was Elena's idea of punishment disguised as team-building. She stood by the hotel pool at sunset, clutching a glass of cheap chardonnay, watching her colleagues cannonball into the turquoise water. At forty-two, she'd reached the stage where everyone expected her to be the grown-up, but inside she felt like a fraud—just going through motions, living like the walking dead.

"You look like you'd rather be anywhere but here," said a voice beside her.

Elena turned to find Marcus, the new creative director, hair damp from a recent swim. He was maybe ten years younger, with that annoying effortless confidence that came from never having had a mortgage or a divorce.

"I'm fine," she lied. "Just enjoying the ambiance."

He laughed, a genuine sound. "You're about as convincing as my zombie apocalypse survival plan. Which, for the record, is mostly hiding in my basement watching Netflix until it blows over."

Something in his self-deprecation disarmed her. "That's your plan? Mine involves tequila and regret."

"I knew there was a reason I liked you," Marcus said, his hand brushing hers as he reached for his drink. The contact sent a jolt through her—not because he was particularly handsome, but because he'd actually *seen* her. Really seen her, for the first time in months.

Maybe years.

"You know what I realized today?" she said, the wine making her brave. "I've been sleepwalking through my life. My marriage ended two years ago and I haven't started dating again. I stayed at that job I hate because it's safe. I'm a zombie, Marcus. Not even the cool kind that eats brains."

The pool lights flickered on, casting rippling reflections across his face. He didn't offer platitudes or tell her she was being dramatic. Instead, he said, "Want to get out of here? There's a bar down the beach that has actual good tequila."

Elena looked at the pool, at her coworkers splashing like children, at the life she'd been tolerating instead of living. Then she set down her glass.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I do."