The Color of Everything After

The fluorescent lights buzzed like dying insects above Elena's desk. She'd been a corporate zombie for three years—since the promotion that was supposed to fix everything but only made her mornings harder and her sleep more restless. Her orange sweater, once vibrant, now looked like something that had been washed too many times, much like her enthusiasm.

At 11:47 PM, the office was a graveyard of abandoned coffee mugs and ergonomic chairs. Elena stared at the PowerPoint slides she'd been revising for six hours. The client wanted a 'pyramid strategy'—their words, not hers. Something about hierarchical value propositions and market penetration. She'd drawn so many triangles that day that when she closed her eyes, geometric shapes burned against her eyelids.

Her phone buzzed. Marcus.

'You coming home?'

'Soon. Just need to finish this deck.'

'You said that three hours ago.'

Elena sighed. The pyramid of empty takeout containers in the corner of her office towered precariously. She remembered when Marcus had surprised her with fresh oranges from that expensive grocery store downtown, back when they still made efforts. Back when she still believed that climbing the corporate pyramid would make her feel less hollow.

The thing about being a zombie, she thought, was that nobody mourned you while you were still walking around.

She saved the presentation. Closed her laptop. The office reflected her face in the darkened windows—pale, shadowed, almost unfamiliar. Her orange lipstick had worn off hours ago.

Marcus was asleep when she finally got home. His orange juice glass sat on the nightstand, condensation ring marking a coaster he'd missed. She watched his chest rise and fall, the steady rhythm of someone who wasn't undead yet.

Tomorrow she'd quit. Tomorrow she'd buy fresh oranges. Tomorrow she'd dismantle the pyramid, brick by brick.

But as she slipped into bed beside him, pulling his warmth against her back, Elena knew: zombies don't always get tomorrow. Sometimes the best you can do is press your cold feet against someone warm and remember what it felt like to be alive.