Supplements and Storms

The orange plastic bottle sat on Mara's desk like an accusation. Vitamin D3, 5000 IU — her doctor's recommendation for the winter blues, though she suspected nothing could cure what ailed her. At forty-two, she'd expected to feel more settled, more certain. Instead, she felt like she was still waiting for her real life to begin.

Across the conference table, Marcus was in full swing. He was built like a retired linebacker gone to seed, his presence overwhelming the small meeting room. Mara had started calling him The Bull behind his back, though never to his face. He steamrolled through objections with the same relentless force he applied to everything.

"The clinical data doesn't support that claim," she said, her voice barely carrying over the hum of the building's HVAC system.

Marcus fixed her with a look she'd seen too many times — patient, pitying, utterly dismissive. "The data is just the starting point, Mara. We're selling hope. We're selling vitality. People want to believe they can buy their way to better health."

Outside, the sky had turned an ominous purple-black. Lightning forked across the windows, illuminating the promotional materials spread across the table. Enhanced absorption. Clinically proven. The words glowed in the sudden brightness, mockingly bright.

"It's bull," she said quietly. The word hung in the air, heavier than she'd intended.

Marcus laughed, a short sharp sound. "Of course it is. Everything is. The question is whether you can sleep at night."

The storm broke then — rain lashing against the glass, thunder rattling the floor beneath her feet. Mara thought of her mother, who'd taken handfuls of supplements every morning until the cancer took her anyway. She thought of the thousands of people who'd buy these pills, desperate for some control over their bodies, their mortality.

She stood up, gathering her things. The vitamin bottle went into her pocket.

"I guess I can't," she said, and walked out into the storm.