The Corporate Tomb

Marcus stared at the glass pyramid on his desk—a cheap paperweight from that company retreat in Cancun where they'd talked about 'synergy' and 'climbing the mountain together.' Now, three layoffs and one demotion later, the pyramid just looked like a tomb.

"You okay?" Sarah asked, leaning against his cubicle wall. They'd started together ten years ago, back when they believed the corporate ladder led somewhere worth going. Now she managed a team of three, same as him, both stalled at middle management in their forties.

"Just thinking about David," Marcus said, turning the pyramid over in his hands. "Remember when he got that VP role? How we congratulated him like he'd won the lottery?"

"Everyone heard about his heart attack, right?" Sarah's voice was quiet. "Fifty-two years old. Stress-induced."

Marcus nodded. His phone buzzed—a text from his wife asking if he'd pick up cat food on the way home. Their daughter had wanted a pet for years, and they'd finally adopted Luna last month. Some days, that cat was the only thing that made sense in his life. She didn't care about titles or performance reviews or the endless climb toward a peak that kept receding.

"Are we still friends?" Marcus asked suddenly. "Or are we just survivors competing for the same oxygen?"

Sarah's expression softened. She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "We're friends, Marcus. That's the one thing they can't metric or restructure out of us."

He looked at the pyramid again—sharp edges, transparent walls, a monument to ambition. Outside his window, the city skyline pressed against the gray afternoon sky. He thought about Luna waiting at home, about his daughter's homework spread across the kitchen table, about the life happening while he was busy building someone else's empire.

Marcus picked up his phone and texted his wife: *Yes. And I'm thinking about leaving early.*

"What are you doing?" Sarah asked, watching him pack his bag.

"Going home to play with my cat," Marcus said, and for the first time in years, he meant it as a complete sentence. "She doesn't care about pyramids. She just wants to be alive."