The Bull's Last Padel Match

The papaya sat untouched on Marcus's desk, its orange flesh already beginning to soften in the afternoon heat. Forty-seven years old and he still couldn't admit to his assistant that he hated tropical fruit. He just accepted it because accepting things was easier than explaining.

"You're still the bull, Marcus," Elena had said that morning, in the shower that smelled of expensive soap and unsaid words. "Charging through everything. Never looking at what you're trampling."

Now he stood at the padel court, sweat already gathering at his temples. Richard, twenty years his junior, was stretching across the net. They were discussing the acquisition — the one that would make Marcus wealthy beyond anything he'd imagined, rich enough to buy papayas in bulk and never eat them.

"Your wife seems... distant," Richard said, bouncing the ball against the court surface. Thwack. Thwack. Thwuck.

Marcus served. The ball hit the glass wall and ricocheted wildly. "She's fine."

"She wasn't at the company picnic."

"She doesn't like picnics."

"She doesn't like you, Marcus. Everyone sees it but you."

The game continued in silence. Marcus's returns grew aggressive. Every swing was something he wanted to say to Elena but couldn't. Every point Richard scored was another way Marcus had failed — at work, at home, at being something other than what everyone expected.

After the match, Richard wiped his forehead with a towel. "The board meets tomorrow. They want to know if you're selling your shares."

"Of course I'm selling."

"And then what?"

"And then what do you mean?"

"You sell. You get the money. What comes after?"

Marcus thought of the papaya rotting on his desk. He thought of Elena's face when she told him she'd booked a flight to her sister's for the month. She'd called him a bull then too — stubborn, dangerous, incapable of anything but charging forward.

"I don't know," Marcus said. "I honestly don't know."

Richard's phone buzzed. He checked it and smiled. "My wife wants to know if we're still coming to dinner. She's making that papaya salad you liked."

Marcus nodded, something tight and unfamiliar in his chest. "Tell her yes. Tell her I'll be there."

The bull had finally stopped charging. The question was whether anything was still standing when he did.