Rack and Lightning

I rack the balls, my fingers tracing the worn green felt that's seen too many lonely nights. The neon sign buzzes overhead, casting a sickly glow across Marcus's weathered face. He's been my pool buddy for fifteen years, but tonight something's broken between us, and we both know it.

"Your shot," he says, but his eyes are fixed on the door, like he's expecting someone to walk through it.

Lightning flashes outside, illuminating the bar's empty interior through rain-streaked windows. The storm's been building all evening, mirroring the tension that's been suffocating us since I found out. Three weeks ago, Marcus had been drunk on his back porch, confessing through tears that he'd fallen in love with my wife. He said nothing happened—he swore it—but the damage was done. The friendship had cracked down the middle.

I lean over the table, lining up my shot, but my hands won't stop shaking. I should've ended it then. Should've walked away and never looked back. But we'd been friends since college, through bad marriages and worse decisions, and some habits are harder to break than others.

"Why are you still here?" Marcus asks, and the vulnerability in his voice cracks something open in me.

The truth sits on my tongue like bile: because I'm lonely too. Because Sarah left six months ago and I haven't known how to exist in the world without my other half. Because when your best friend betrays you, you realize just how few people actually know your name.

Instead, I drive the cue forward. The cue ball strikes, sending balls scattering across the table like our fragmented history. They roll into pockets—some cleanly, others with hesitant spins that leave them hanging on edges, deciding nothing.

Marcus catches me staring at his hands. The knuckles are raw, fresh bruises blooming like dark flowers. He pulls them behind his back, but not before I see the wedding ring still on his finger—the one he swore he'd removed weeks ago.

"Some friend," I say, and it comes out softer than I intended.

Outside, thunder finally rattles the windowpanes. The storm has arrived.