Stealing Signs

Elena ran the same route every morning at 5:30 AM, her sneakers slapping against the empty streets of their suburban neighborhood. Three miles, four if she took the long way past the elementary school. It was the only time her mind felt quiet, the only time she didn't parse through every conversation she and Marcus had shared over their twelve years together, looking for the cracks.

She'd found the burner phone three weeks ago—taped inside his old baseball glove in the back of the closet, beside the jersey he'd worn when they'd met at a Dodgers game. He'd been teaching their son to pitch that same weekend, standing in the backyard with gentle precision, calling out signals like they were secrets between just the two of them. Now Elena wondered if everything had been signals.

The FBI had come yesterday. Two agents in a living room that suddenly felt staged, asking questions about Marcus's travel to Singapore, his consulting work, the encrypted files on his laptop. They used the word espionage carefully, like it was something that happened to other people in other neighborhoods.

"He might be a spy," one had said, and the absurdity of it made Elena laugh until she cried, because Marcus couldn't even remember to separate the recycling, couldn't lie about why he was late for dinner, couldn't keep anything from her except apparently everything.

She kept running. Her breath came in ragged bursts now, her chest burning. Somewhere behind her, she imagined the life they'd built—family dinners, baseball games, Sunday mornings in bed—dissolving into something unrecognizable. The worst part was that she still loved him. That was the true betrayal. Marcus had stolen signs for years, and she'd sat in the stands cheering, never once realizing she was watching the wrong game.

Elena slowed to a walk as her street came into view. Their house was dark still. She could go inside and make coffee, wake the kids, pretend this was just another Tuesday. Or she could keep running. The morning air smelled of cut grass and possibility. She stretched her calves and thought about how far she could get before anyone noticed she'd left the game.