The Broken Cable

The cable had been out for three days when Marcus showed up with a six-pack and a baseball glove. Sarah hadn't called him—it wasn't that kind of breakup—but he'd appeared on her porch like he'd sensed the television silence from three blocks away.

"They're airing the game at O'Malley's," he said, not quite meeting her eyes. "Thought you might want to... I don't know. Not be alone."

Sarah let him in. The apartment felt hollow without the constant hum of cable news she used as white noise, something to drown out the thoughts that crept in during quiet moments. She'd been surviving on delivery pizza and tap water that tasted faintly of rust.

Marcus placed the baseball glove on her coffee table like a peace offering. They'd met at a game three years ago, both reaching for the same foul ball. His hand had brushed hers, and something in his touch had felt like coming home. Now everything felt like touching a bruise.

"You're taking your vitamins?" he asked, gesturing to the pill organizer on her kitchen counter. The plastic organizer was the kind her mother used—colorful compartments labeled S M T W T F S.

"Trying to," she said. "Doctor said I'm deficient in everything. Vitamin D, iron... happiness."

Marcus cracked a small, sad smile. "You used to hate supplements. Said they were for people who'd given up."

"I gave up on a lot of things."

They sat on her balcony as the sun went down, drinking warm beer and watching the neighborhood drift into evening. Sarah realized she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt genuine joy—the kind that wasn't chemically induced or performance-based. Just... contentment.

Marcus checked his phone. "Game's starting."

"You go," she said. "I'm okay here."

"Stay with your cable outage and your vitamins," he said, but not unkindly. "Maybe I'll come by tomorrow. If you want."

After he left, Sarah turned on the faucet, watched water spiral down the drain. Some things couldn't be fixed. Some things you just had to let flow through you until the pipes ran clear again.