Pyramid of Empty Rooms

The corporate pyramid rose forty stories above Scottsdale, its glass facade catching the brutal Arizona sun. Elena pressed her palm against the window, feeling the heat radiate through, just as her phone buzzed again. Another deadline. Another crisis.

"You're running yourself into the ground, El."

She turned to find David in her doorway, his concerned expression deepening the lines around his eyes. They'd been something once — colleagues who became lovers who became strangers sharing a cubicle wall. Now he was married to someone else, and she was married to the quarterly projections.

"The presentation isn't until Thursday," she said, not meeting his eyes. "I have time."

"You said that last week. And the week before." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Sarah told me you haven't been home before midnight in months. What are you climbing toward, exactly?"

Elena finally looked at him. Really looked. The gray at his temples, the way he leaned against her doorframe with practiced casualness, the careful distance he maintained. They'd both made choices. His was stability; hers was something else — something she couldn't name anymore.

"I'm building something, David. This merger — if it goes through, I make VP. I've been working toward this since we were twenty-five."

"Since we were twenty-five," he repeated softly. "That's ten years, Elena. The pyramid keeps getting higher, but the rooms just keep getting emptier."

The elevator dinged down the hall. David's signal.

He pushed off the doorframe. "My sister got a dog last week. Some rescue that was abused, spent three years at a shelter waiting for someone to choose him. She named him Lucky." A small, sad smile. "He follows her everywhere now. Like he can't quite believe she actually came back for him."

"David —"

"Your life is happening while you're busy making plans for a better one." He checked his watch. "I have a meeting. Just think about it, okay? What happens when you reach the top and there's no one left to call?"

Elena watched him walk away, his footsteps fading into the carpeted hush of the forty-second floor. Below, palm trees lined the executive parking lot, swaying in wind she couldn't feel. The pyramid gleamed. The presentation waited.

She turned back to the window, her palm leaving a faint mark on the glass that disappeared even as she watched. Her phone lit up with another notification. She didn't move.