Swimming in the Shallows

The zombie wore Mark's face, but his eyes were flat, like dead goldfish floating at the top of a bowl. Sarah served the padel ball hard, watching it arc toward her oldest friend, the man who'd once held her hair while she vomited tequila and helped her move apartments in three hours flat.

"Your ex called," Mark said, missing the return. "About the fish."

The goldfish—that ridiculous orange carnival prize they'd won together two years ago—was currently swimming indifferent circles in Sarah's kitchen. Clarissa had wanted it in the divorce, along with the Vitamix and his grandmother's jewelry.

"She can have it," Sarah said, hitting the next ball softly. "I'll bring it over."

Mark's iphone buzzed again in his bag, a persistent digital summons from his law firm, another emergency. His skin looked gray under the court lights, the pallor of someone sleeping four hours a night, living on espresso and anxiety. Corporate necromancy—keeping the dead walking.

"You look like shit, Mark."

"Project's killing me. Literally." He managed a ghost of his old grin. "Remember when we had time for this? For anything?"

Sarah did remember. Friday nights drinking wine on her fire escape, talking about the books they'd write, the businesses they'd start. Now Mark was a zombie in bespoke suits, and she was divorced with a goldfish named Susan.

"The fish," Mark said suddenly. "Clarissa said she'd kill it if I didn't take it. Said it represented everything wrong with us." He laughed, ugly and brittle. "A carnival goldfish represents our failed marriage."

"Better than the iphone," Sarah said. "At least Susan doesn't notify you of work emergencies at midnight."

Mark's phone lit up again—his partner, asking about tomorrow's meeting. He stared at it, then back at Sarah, something like regret surfacing behind his eyes.

"Walk with me?" she asked. "Just to the bodega. We'll get you some actual food."

The zombie nodded, and for a moment, Mark was there again—her friend, alive and tired and whole.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah. Let me just turn this thing off."