The Burden We Bear

The cable guy showed up at noon on a Tuesday, three hours late, when Marcus was already knee-deep in a quarterly report that refused to write itself. The guy—young, bearded, with dead eyes that spoke of too many suburban crawlspaces—handed him the clipboard.

"Your wife—the ex-wife? She called in a disconnect."

Marcus stared at him. "She moved out six months ago. Why now?"

"Fox Communications says her name's still primary on the account."

Fox. Of course. The company Sara had sworn was predatory, overpriced, a corporate parasite sucking their bank account dry while they argued over Netflix passwords. Now she was using it to sever one more tether.

"You can't just—"

"Buddy, I just pull the wires."

The dog—Barnaby, the golden retriever Sara had refused to leave behind—chose that moment to trot into the living room, tail wagging at the stranger. He was old now, graying around the muzzle, Marcus's sole companion in this apartment that still felt like borrowed time.

Outside, through the window, Marcus saw it: a fox standing on the neighbor's fence, watching him. Unusual in the city. Sara had loved foxes—had a kitschy little figurine collection, believed they symbolized cunning and adaptability. Now he just saw a mangy opportunist surviving in spaces it wasn't meant to be.

"She's bearing down hard, isn't she?" The cable guy's tone was almost sympathetic. "Divorce wars, man. My sister went through it. They'll come after everything."

Marcus signed the clipboard. His hand shook. "Just let me keep the internet."

"That's a different account."

That night, lying in bed alone—Barnaby snoring softly at his feet—Marcus found himself remembering the last fight. How she'd screamed that he was emotionally absent, that he'd rather bear his burdens in silence than let anyone help carry them. How she'd said she felt like a dog waiting for scraps of his attention.

The irony hit him then: she'd taken the house, the car, half his retirement. But she'd left him the dog. The one living thing that remembered what they'd built.

Barnaby stirred, whimpering at a dream. Marcus rested his hand on the warm fur, and finally, for the first time in months, he cried.