The Art of Floating

Sarah had been running on autopilot for three years since Marcus left, moving through her corporate VP role like the goldfish in her daughter's bowl—swimming the same circles, forgetting she'd already been here. The padel court at the club became her sanctuary, where she could smash balls against the glass walls and imagine they were quarterly projections or her ex-husband's excuses.

This Tuesday, Richard from Legal was waiting at the net, wearing that ridiculous baseball cap backward like he was twenty-five instead of fifty-five. His wife had cancer; everyone knew. Nobody mentioned it.

"You're not focusing," Richard said, returning her serve effortlessly. "Your mind's somewhere else."

Sarah adjusted her hat—a sensible wide-brimmed thing that shielded her face from judgment as much as sunlight. "Just tired. The merger's eating everyone alive."

"Marcus called me," Richard said softly, still bouncing the ball. "He wants to come back. Says he made a mistake."

Sarah's racket stopped mid-air. The court's glass walls suddenly felt like an aquarium, and she was the fish pressing against them, watching life continue on the other side. "What did you tell him?"

"That I'd ask you." Richard's eyes crinkled. "He says he's different now. That the time apart... clarified things."

The goldfish memory surfaced again: Marcus leaving, his bags packed, telling her she'd become "too corporate, too distant." Now he wanted back into the bowl she'd finally made comfortable.

"Did I tell you about my daughter's fish?" Sarah asked suddenly. "It died last week. We buried it in the garden. She cried for an hour, then asked if we could get a dog."

Richard frowned, missing the connection. "Sarah?"

"I think I'm done swimming in circles, Richard." She walked to the net, extending her hand. "Tell Marcus no. Tell him the tank's empty."

Later that evening, Sarah stopped at a shelter on her way home. She'd never had a dog. She'd never wanted one. But sometimes, she realized, the healthiest thing you could do was break the glass.