Salt and Signal

The dog wasn't hers anymore. That was the first thing Sarah understood as she stood on the balcony, her bare feet cold against the concrete, watching Marcus run along the shoreline below.

Buster—that ridiculous Golden Retriever they'd adopted together, fought over, and ultimately agreed Marcus would keep—bounded ahead through the surf, shaking water from his coat in wild crystalline sprays. Marcus was running, really running, his form loose and athletic, the way he used to run toward her in their early days, before everything became so complicated. Before the promotions and the late nights and the way they'd started sleeping with their iPhones tucked under their pillows, as if some work emergency might justify the distance growing between them.

Her palm pressed against the glass door. Sweat prickled there, or maybe it was just the condensation. Three weeks since she'd moved out. Three weeks of forwarding calls, of packing boxes, of explaining to friends why no, she couldn't just talk to him, it wasn't that simple.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket—a reflex, muscle memory. She almost didn't check. Almost. But of course she did.

Saw his name on the screen. Felt her heart do that complicated thing it had been doing since the breakup—not quite hope, not quite dread, some messy gray space in between.

*Come down,* the message read. *The water's cold today.*

Sarah's breath caught. She pressed her forehead against the glass, watching Marcus stop now, waist-deep in the Atlantic, Buster paddling around him like some ridiculous furry boat. The sun was beginning to rise, painting the horizon in pinks and golds that felt almost violent in their beauty.

It would be so easy. It would be terrifyingly, dangerously easy to go down there. To let the ocean water wash over her feet, to let his arms close around her, to pretend that love was something you could run back to instead of something you had to build, piece by careful piece, from whatever remained.

Her thumb hovered over the screen.

The dog barked—a sharp, joyous sound that carried all the way up to the balcony.

Sarah put the phone in her pocket without answering. Went back to bed instead. Some things, she decided, had already been decided for her.