The Geometry of Regret

David stood in the abandoned office, the fluorescent light flickering above him like a dying heartbeat. On the desk sat a **pyramid** of unopened instant coffee packets—six hundred and twelve of them, left behind when the company collapsed. Three years ago, Mark had built that pyramid, one coffee at a time, swearing he'd create something permanent in a world of layoffs and restructuring.

Outside, a **fox** darted across the parking lot, its russet coat catching the last orange light of sunset. David watched it through the window, remembering how Mark had once compared their friendship to foxes—beautiful, adaptable, but ultimately solitary creatures. "We're not pack animals, Dave," he'd said, nursing a drink at the office holiday party. "We're just pretending to be."

The **orange** Mark had peeled that evening sat on the console table, its citrus scent still sharp in David's memory. They'd stood there in their cheap suits, too young to be cynical but too old to believe in corporate loyalty. Mark had laughed, spraying orange pulp onto his **hat**, a gray fedora he wore ironically before irony became exhaustion. "This place," Mark had said, "this is just a pyramid scheme for people who think they're not in a pyramid scheme."

They weren't friends anymore—not really. The falling out had been slow, like erosion. No explosion, just the gradual realization that they wanted different things: Mark wanted to burn everything down and laugh while it burned; David wanted to survive, maybe even thrive, in the burning building.

The fox was gone now. The coffee pyramid remained, a monument to temporary permanence. David picked up his phone, scrolling through contacts until he found Mark's name. Three years of silence. The corporate world had chewed them both up and spit them out, and for what?

He pressed call. It rang. And rang. And rang.

Somewhere, a fox was hunting. Somewhere, an orange was being peeled. And somewhere, two friends were learning that some pyramids take longer to build than others, but gravity eventually claims everything.