Terminal Velocity

Marcus stared at his reflection in the office bathroom mirror—dark circles under eyes that hadn't really seen anything in months. Just another corporate zombie, shuffling between meetings that could have been emails, responding to messages at 11 PM like some Pavlovian experiment gone wrong. His phone buzzed again. He ignored it.

The elevator ride to the parking garage took forever. That's where he saw her—Lena from accounting, crying silently against the stainless steel doors. They'd made out at the Christmas party three years ago, back when they both still believed this job meant something.

"You okay?" he asked, because what else do you say to someone who's clearly falling apart?

"My mother," she wiped at her eyes. "Alzheimer's. She doesn't know who I am anymore. She's just... gone. Like a zombie, Marcus. Empty shell."

He thought about asking if she wanted to grab dinner, but the elevator dinged. She walked away toward her car, and he watched her go, just like he'd watched his own life drift away from him—passive, paralyzed, drowning in the shallow end of his own existence.

Home found him face-to-face with Barnaby, his father's golden retriever. The old man had died last year, and somehow Marcus had inherited both the house and the dog—a living responsibility he hadn't asked for but couldn't abandon. Barnaby pressed his wet nose against Marcus's hand, tail thumping desperately against the vinyl floor.

"Yeah," Marcus whispered, sinking to the floor. "I know, buddy. Me too."

They sat there together—man and dog—two lonely creatures in a quiet house that smelled like pine cleaner and unanswered questions. Barnaby rested his head on Marcus's knee, and something broke open in his chest. Tears came hot and fast, splashing onto the dog's golden fur.

"Water," he laughed darkly. "That's what they say, right? We're made of it."

Barnaby licked the tears from his face.

Marcus pulled out his phone and texted Lena: *Dinner tomorrow? My treat. I know a place.*

She replied instantly: *I'd like that.*

The dog sighed, content, and Marcus realized he hadn't felt this alive in years. Maybe that's what it took—nearly becoming a zombie yourself to finally understand what being human actually meant.