The Goldfish at the Window

The vitamin bottle sat on her desk like a silent accusation. Elena picked it up, the plastic smooth under her fingers, and dry-swallowed two capsules. Her thirty-fifth birthday had arrived three months ago with nothing but a card from her mother and the creeping realization that she was now older than her mother had been when she'd left.

"You're still here?" Mark from accounting stood in her doorway, holding a papaya like it was a grenade. "It's nearly seven."

Elena started. The goldfish tank beside her monitor glowed with its eerie blue light. The fish—a carnival prize she'd won with David four years ago—circled lazily, its mouth opening and closing in a perpetual, silent scream.

"Just finishing the Anderson proposal," she said, but her eyes drifted to the loose cable snaking across the floorboard. The internet had been spotty all week, another thing she needed to fix, another thing she kept forgetting.

"You work too much." Mark set the papaya on her desk. "My sister says the same thing about her dog. Always waiting by the door, even when nobody's coming home."

The words hit harder than he intended. Elena remembered the goldfish's original companion—it had died last winter,漂浮 at the top of the tank for three days before she'd noticed. She'd flushed it without crying. Some losses were too small for tears.

"David's coming back Friday," she said, testing the truth of it as she spoke. "He's finally done with that project in Chicago."

"Right. Chicago." Mark's eyes flickered to the empty chair across from her, then away. "Well. Don't work too late. The building gets weird after dark."

He left, and the door clicked shut. Elena picked up the papaya, its skin mottled with yellow and green, reminding her of bruises. She cut it open with a letter opener, the flesh bright orange against the gray office carpet. Somewhere, a dog barked in the distance—a lonely, persistent sound that echoed in her chest.

The goldfish swam to the front of the tank, its bulbous eyes reflecting the monitor's glow. It bumped against the glass, once, twice, as if testing the boundary between its small blue world and whatever lay beyond.

"I know," Elena whispered, popping another vitamin. "I know."