Riddles in the Afterglow

The morning light filtered through half-open blinds, painting everything in shades of dusty amber. Sarah lay beside me, her breathing rhythmic and soft, while I stared at the ceiling feeling like a zombie—drained, hollowed out by three months of whatever this was. The orange juice on the nightstand had separated, pulpy settling at the bottom like my own unresolved questions.

My iPhone lit up with a work notification. I ignored it.

Sarah had this cat named Sphinx, a haughty creature with mismatched eyes who judged me from doorframes and bookshelves. The cat sat now on the dresser, watching me dress with what I imagined was knowing contempt.

"You're leaving already," she said, voice rough with sleep. Not a question.

"I have that meeting."

"Right. The meeting."

She'd bought an orange at the bodega yesterday—blood orange, vivid and impossible. She'd peeled it slowly, fingers stained sunset-red, and offered me a segment. The memory pressed against my chest: her wrist, the citrus scent, the way she'd looked at me like I was a riddle she might never solve.

I grabbed my phone. 47 unread messages.

"You know," she said, propping herself up, the sheet falling away. "The Sphinx asked the most dangerous question. Not 'what walks on four legs then two then four.' That's child's play. The real question was: what are you so afraid of becoming?"

The zombie comment from earlier echoed back. Was that what she saw? Something walking through motions, alive but not living?

"I'll call you," I said, and hated myself immediately.

"No you won't."

She was right. I wouldn't.

In the elevator, I finally checked my messages. None of them mattered. The reflection in the polished steel doors showed me everything I'd been avoiding: tired eyes, a mouth that had forgotten how to say what it meant, a life arranged around the wrong priorities.

I almost went back up. Almost.

Instead, I stepped onto the street, where an orange sunset was just beginning to bruise the horizon, and wondered what other versions of myself I'd buried along the way.