The Architecture of Hunger

Margaret pushed the spinach around her plate, watching the wilted leaves leave green trails across the white porcelain. They were at Giovanni's, their anniversary spot, but David hadn't looked up from his phone since the appetizer arrived.

"The corporate pyramid scheme again?" she asked, not really caring about the answer. She said it mostly to hear her own voice, to confirm she still existed in the space between them.

"It's not a scheme, Maggie. It's organizational structure." David's voice was tired, worn smooth by repetition. "Some people are meant to be at the top. Others support the base."

She thought about telling him about her appointment earlier, the vitamin D deficiency, how the doctor had used the word "osteoporosis" like it was already written in her future. She'd wanted to say: We're both crumbling, David. From the inside out. But instead she took a bite of spinach, bitter and metallic.

The pyramid on David's screen lit up his face—some presentation about scaling, about growth, about reaching upward. She'd stopped reaching years ago. Now she mostly maintained.

"Remember Egypt?" she asked suddenly.

David finally looked up. "What?"

"Our honeymoon. The pyramids. You said they were built on the backs of workers who believed in something bigger than themselves. You said that was noble."

"I was twenty-four, Mags. I believed in a lot of things."

The waitress appeared with the check, saving them from whatever might have come next. Outside, the city had grown dark. Margaret walked a half-step behind David, watching his shadow stretch long across the sidewalk. She thought about vitamins, about maintenance, about the slow accumulation of deficiencies you didn't notice until something broke.

At home, she swallowed the vitamin D pill with a glass of water, standing in their kitchen where the fluorescent light hummed like uncertainty. David was already in the home office, his pyramid presentation casting a blue glow across the closed door.

She stood there a moment longer, feeling the hollow space between her ribs where something used to be. Then she turned out the light and walked into the dark.