Small Pond, Big Ocean

Margaret stood by the corporate aquarium, watching the goldfish dart through neon-lit water, their three-second memories a blessing she envied. The quarterly review had just ended, and her career trajectory felt as circular as their swimming pattern.

'They keep them in schools,' David said, appearing beside her. His baseball cap was pulled low - casual Friday in a leadership role. 'Goldfish. Company policy.' He offered her a drink, his palm sweating slightly against the plastic cup.

'Like us,' she said, not taking it. 'Swimming in circles until someone remembers to feed us.'

David's laugh was practiced, a sound he'd perfected for boardrooms. 'That's dark, Marge. You've been intense lately.'

'I've been remembering.' The water cast rippling reflections on her blouse. 'That baseball game we attended, six years ago. The company outing. You told me you'd leave your wife.'

David stilled. The aquarium bubbled behind them. 'I did leave her. Two years ago.'

'You didn't tell me.'

'We weren't speaking then. You transferred to Chicago.'

'Because of you.' Margaret turned to face him. 'Because loving you felt like drowning. I needed air.'

The goldfish surfaced, mouths opening silently at the water's edge.

'I'm getting divorced again,' David said quietly. 'Number two filed yesterday.' He adjusted his hat, something he did when emotionally cornered. 'I keep thinking about what you said that day. About how we're all just swimming in the same corporate pond, pretending it's the ocean.'

Margaret looked at him - at the lines around his eyes, the weariness in his posture. The anger she'd carried like water weight for six years suddenly felt heavy, unnecessary.

'What if we stopped pretending?' she said.

He met her eyes, really looked at her, for the first time in years. 'I could come to Chicago. Or you could come back. Or we could meet somewhere new.' The hope in his voice was dangerous, familiar.

The goldfish turned as one, a synchronized memory of nothing at all.

'Buy me a drink first,' Margaret said. 'And this time, don't make promises you can't keep.'

David's smile was genuine this time, not practiced. 'Just the drink, then. We'll see what remembers us.'