The Goldfish at the End of the World

Elena had become a zombie by thirty-three, not through any virus or apocalypse, but through the gentle erosion of corporate existence. Each morning she donned her hat—metaphorical armor of competence—and rode the elevator to the twenty-third floor, where sphinx-like problems awaited her: client inquiries wrapped in riddles, project specifications that shifted when not observed directly.

Her goldfish, Bubbles, swam in endless circles on her desk. Sometimes she envied him. His world was bounded by glass and filtered light, his concerns limited to flakes and the occasional castle ornament. She'd named him during that brief period of optimism after her promotion, before she understood that climbing higher only meant better view of the fall.

"You're playing padel tonight?" Marcus asked, his voice tight. He was the same age as her, somehow younger.

"Can't. Deadline."

"You always say that."

"I'm always working, Marcus. That's how this works."

The truth was she'd stopped playing months ago. The padel court had become another place where her inadequacy manifested itself in sweat and failure. Better to stay late, pretend the spreadsheets needed her.

That night, the building hummed with empty air conditioning. She watched Bubbles rise to the surface, his mouth opening and closing in silent perpetuity. How many memories did he have? Three seconds? Three minutes? She envied the possibility that he might forget the same moment over and over, never accumulating the weight of repetition.

The sphinx on her monitor glowed back at her—another unanswered email from another person whose name she'd forgotten. She removed her hat and let her hair fall loose, feeling the cool air on her scalp. In the reflection of the darkened window, she saw herself: thirty-three and already haunting her own life.

She reached into the bowl. Bubbles didn't flinch as her finger broke the surface. For a moment, she was the monster.

"Swim," she whispered. "Just keep swimming."

Her phone buzzed. A notification from the padel group: someone canceling, two spots open. For once, she typed yes. The zombie could wait until morning.