Riddles in the Dead of Night

Maya's iPhone lit up her face at 2 AM, the only illumination in her room besides the glow of her laptop. #zombiemode, she thought, scrolling through Instagram for the third time that night. Junior year was literally draining her soul.

Her cat, Figaro, jumped onto her desk, knocking over the charging cable. The phone died mid-scroll, plunging her into darkness.

"Figaro, seriously?" she groaned, but the cat just purred and head-butted her hand. Typical.

The next morning, Maya dragged herself to school feeling like actual death. Her friend Jordan caught up by her locker. "You look wrecked. All-nighter?"

"Researching for English," Maya lied. "We have to write about mythology and I'm stuck on the sphinx riddle thing."

"The what now?"

"You know, 'What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in evening?'" Maya recited. "It's literally about the stages of life. Baby, adult, old person with a cane. But what if the answer's different now?"

Jordan raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Like... what walks on zero legs because you're lying in bed doomscrolling until your phone dies and you become a zombie?" Maya said. "That's literally my life right now."

Jordan laughed. "That's deep, honestly. But also, you should maybe sleep."

"I know, but what if I'm missing something? What if everyone else has this figured out and I'm the only one who's clueless?" The words tumbled out before she could stop them.

Jordan's expression softened. "Maya, nobody knows what they're doing. We're all just pretending. That's the real riddle."

The bell rang, cutting through Maya's spiral. As they walked to class, she realized Jordan was right. The sphinx's riddle wasn't about having the right answer—it was about accepting that every stage was temporary. The zombie mornings, the awkward conversations, the late-night overthinking—it was all part of growing up.

That night, Maya left her iPhone across the room. Figaro curled up beside her, and for the first time in weeks, she slept until morning. The real riddle wasn't about legs or time or stages—it was about figuring out who you wanted to be when you finally woke up.