Riddles in the Glass Case

Maya stared at the glass case, half-asleep after pulling an all-nighter for finals. The Egyptian exhibit felt like a fever dream—the golden **sphinx** stared back with its limestone eyes, like it knew she was pretending to have her life together. Behind it loomed a miniature **pyramid**, its perfect triangles mocking her own mess of a life.

"You look like a **zombie**," whispered Jake, leaning against the case. His flannel was buttoned wrong—classic Jake, low-key cute but totally oblivious.

"Thanks," Maya said. "You look... present."

He laughed, and she felt that weird flutter in her chest. The social dynamic was tricky enough without adding feelings to the mix. Their friend group had been weird since last month, when Chloe started dating Tyler and suddenly became a different person.

A teacher's voice droned about ancient burial rites. Maya's phone buzzed in her pocket—Chloe probably, ghosting her again. The charging **cable** was tangled around her backpack strap like a snake.

"Hey," Jake said, nodding toward the far exhibit. "Check it out."

A massive stuffed grizzly **bear** stood on its hind legs, mouth frozen in a permanent roar. It had been the school mascot since forever, though why anyone thought a aggressive predator represented school spirit was beyond her.

"Mr. Peterson still has that trophy in his office," Jake said. "From when he was quarterback. He calls it his 'bear hug award.'"

Maya snorted. "That's so cringe."

"But also kind of iconic?"

"Fine. Iconic cringe."

They stood there in comfortable silence, watching the bear's glass eyes reflect the museum lights. Something about Jake made it easy to drop the facade—the constant pressure to be chill, to not care too hard, to act like everything was whatever.

"You know what the sphinx asked," Jake said suddenly. "The riddle."

"What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, three in the evening," Maya recited. "Man. Baby, adult, old person with a cane."

"Deep."

"Right? Like, we're all just trying to figure out which legs we're supposed to be walking on."

Jake looked at her, really looked at her, and she felt seen in a way that made her chest tight.

"Maybe that's the whole point," he said. "Nobody knows. We're all just guessing."

The sphinx watched them both, its ancient smile almost knowing now. Maybe growing up was just one long riddle, and the answer changed every time you asked.