Riddles in Orange Light

She sat across from her oldest friend at the kitchen table, the morning light filtering through orange curtains she'd bought during that brief, misguided phase when she believed color could fix everything. Three years of friendship reduced to this—carefully neutral conversations in rooms that felt too bright or too quiet, never quite right.

"You're staring again," Sarah said, not looking up from her coffee.

"You're the sphinx," Elena replied. "All riddles, no answers."

Sarah's lips curved, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "Maybe the riddles are all there is."

Elena's hand trembled as she reached for her daily vitamin. The small white pill sat innocent in her palm, yet it felt like bearing the weight of every unspoken thing between them. The diagnosis had come two months ago—early enough that supplements might help, late enough that everything felt different now. Time, suddenly finite. Sarah had been there through the appointments and the research, except for the parts that actually mattered.

"Do you remember that camping trip?" Elena asked suddenly. "When we saw the bear?"

Sarah looked up then, really looked at her. "The black bear that raided our cooler. You screamed so loud."

"We were terrified. But we were together."

"We were," Sarah said quietly. "We were."

The silence stretched, filled only by the refrigerator's hum and distant traffic. Elena wanted to ask the questions that clawed at her throat—about the night Sarah had disappeared with Elena's husband, about the months of carefully crafted casualness, about why she kept showing up like nothing had happened. But Sarah remained inscrutable, and Elena found herself unable to bear another rejection disguised as friendship.

She swallowed the vitamin dry.

"I can't do this anymore," Elena said.

Sarah set down her cup. "I know."

The orange light caught dust motes dancing between them, brief moments of clarity in a room full of shadows. Some riddles, Elena realized, weren't meant to be solved—only survived. She stood up and walked to the door, leaving behind the sphinx and her riddles, leaving behind the friend who had become a stranger in increments so small she hadn't noticed until it was too late. Some things, like certain vitamins and certain people, your body simply stopped absorbing.