Still Waters

The hotel pool shimmered like liquid glass under the Giza moonlight. Elena floated on her back, letting the water carry her weight, thinking how strange it was that a corporate restructuring meeting had brought her to Egypt at thirty-five, divorced and questioning every choice that led here.

"You've been staring at the pyramid for an hour," Greg said, leaning against the pool bar. His tie was loosened, his second martini in hand. "It's not going to answer your questions, you know."

Elena laughed bitterly. "Which ones? The ones about why our department got restructured into obsolescence, or why I slept with you after the merger announcement?"

Greg didn't flinch. "The sphinx asked riddles too. At least you're honest about it."

That was the problem with Greg—he made terrible decisions charming, infidelity sound like philosophical inquiry. They'd spent three days in retreats and hotel rooms while the company crumbled around them. Elena's ex-husband had warned her about men like Greg, men who built their lives like pyramid schemes—always climbing, always someone else falling.

She swam to the edge, pulled herself out. Water dripped from her skin. "I'm leaving tomorrow. Flight's at six."

"And us?"

"There is no us. There was wine and a sunset and terrible judgment."

Her phone buzzed on the lounge chair. A photo: her daughter back in Chicago, holding the papaya she'd bought at the market, grinning with juice-stained chin. Kira at seven, still innocent, still believing her mother's business trips meant something important.

"Your kid?" Greg asked.

Elena nodded, suddenly exhausted. "She asked why I'm never home for dinner anymore. I told her about the pyramids. She asked if I'd bring her back a pharaoh."

A cat that had been lurking near the breakfast buffet all week—skinny, patchy calico—jumped onto the lounge chair and curled up on Elena's towel. It purred like a small engine, completely uninterested in their drama.

"Smart animal," Elena said. "Knows when to mind its own business."

Greg finished his drink. "For what it's worth, I liked working with you. Before everything."

"Before you were my boss, or before we made it complicated?"

"Before the water got too deep."

Elena picked up the cat, who didn't protest, and walked toward her room. The Great Pyramid loomed in the distance, ancient and indifferent. Some mysteries didn't need solving. Some losses were just losses.

"Goodbye, Greg," she said, not looking back.

The cat purred against her chest. In the morning, she'd be on a plane home to her daughter. Tonight, she'd just sleep with something honest.