Riddle by the Infinity Pool

The iphone buzzed against the nightstand, vibrating through the humid darkness of our suite. Sarah's sleep was deep and innocent, her breath a gentle rhythm I'd once found comforting. Now it just made me feel like a thief.

I slipped out to the balcony, where a concrete sphinx—kitschy, absurd, watching over the infinity pool—seemed to mock me with its stone grin. This resort in Mexico had been her idea. A last attempt to save something that was already dead.

The text was from Marcus: *She knows.*

Marcus was my best friend. Had been, since college, since we'd played baseball together in the dusty heat of Iowa summers. He was at my wedding. He held me when my mother died. And for the past eight months, he'd been sleeping with my wife.

The irony wasn't lost on me. I'd spent years solving riddles—corporate mergers, legal loopholes, the calculus of other people's problems. But this? This was staring me in the face while I refused to see it. The sphinx's riddle was simple: *What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the evening?* The answer was man. My riddle was simpler: *What kind of man stays when everything's already gone?*

Inside, the papaya I'd cut earlier sat on a cutting board, its orange flesh glistening in the fridge light. We were supposed to have breakfast together. Sarah loved papaya. She'd said it reminded her of our honeymoon in Bali, of who we used to be.

I sat on the balcony edge, iphone glowing in my hand. Another text from Marcus: *I'm sorry. I tried to stop it. We both did.*

The moon reflected on the pool like a shattered coin. The sphinx watched, eternal and indifferent. Behind me, Sarah stirred. I could go back to bed. Could pretend to sleep until dawn, then eat that papaya and smile and ask about her plans for the day.

Or I could finally admit what I'd known for months: that sometimes the answer to the riddle is that there is no answer. That you just have to walk away.

The iphone screen went dark. The sphinx's grin seemed to widen. I stood up and left the phone on the balcony rail.

Some puzzles aren't meant to be solved. They're meant to be left behind.