Sphinx in the Pocket

Maya lay beside him in the dark, watching the blue light wash over David's face. He was scrolling again, eyes glazed, thumb flicking upward like a reflex he couldn't control. A zombie, really—not the lumbering, flesh-eating kind from movies, but something worse: a man who'd somehow forgotten how to be present, how to be alive in any moment that wasn't mediated through glass.

She thought about leaving. Thought about it every night, actually. But then she'd remember the way he looked at her that morning in Paris, three years ago, before the notifications took over. Before the device in his pocket became a sphinx, demanding constant attention, posing riddles he couldn't solve but couldn't stop trying to.

"David," she whispered.

"Mmm." He didn't look up.

The iPhone illuminated his exhausted features. Tomorrow was the meeting with the bear from corporate—Dirk, the VP who'd survived three mergers and now wanted to slash their department's budget. David should be sleeping. Instead, he was doomscrolling, searching for something that might make him feel prepared, or maybe just less alone.

Maya sat up, the sheets pooling at her waist. "You need to eat something."

There was spinach wilting in the refrigerator, along with chicken breasts she'd bought on Tuesday with plans to cook. Plans that dissolved every evening into takeout containers and exhaustion and the quiet understanding that they were both just getting through it.

"Not hungry," he murmured, still not looking at her.

She reached over, placed her hand on the screen. He flinched, then finally met her eyes. The vulnerability there undid her, as always.

"We're disappearing," she said softly. "Did you know that?"

David set down the phone. In the darkness, something shifted between them—something fragile and terrifying and necessary. He turned toward her, his fingers finding hers.

"I know," he said. "I'm scared too."

Outside, the city hummed with millions of people holding their breath, waiting for something to change. Inside, they lay back down, finally together, as the phone's screen faded to black.