The Goldfish Bowl

The aquarium in the office lobby has become my refuge. I've been staring at it for twenty minutes, watching the solitary orange goldfish swim in endless circles. Three years I've worked at this firm, and I'm pretty sure it's the same fish. That's either terrifying or impressive, depending on how you look at it.

My phone buzzes again. Sarah.

I don't answer. The overhead fluorescent lights flicker like lightning about to strike, and for a second, I consider stepping into the elevator and never coming back. But I don't. Instead, I watch the fish complete another loop, its mouth opening and closing in silent repetition, trapped in its glass prison.

The IT guy walks by with a coil of ethernet cable draped over his shoulder like a dead snake. He's going to reroute the network again—another temporary fix in a building that's been slowly falling apart since the nineties. Kind of like my marriage.

Sarah sent me a photograph last night. She was at some bar, her hand resting on another man's arm. His hand was on her waist, casual and proprietary, like he belonged there. She'd looked directly into the camera, defying me to say something, defying me to care.

I finally turn away from the fish and head to my office. The cable from the floor lamp is frayed where it connects to the base, exposing copper wire. I should report it. I should do a lot of things.

Instead, I sit at my desk and open two folders on my computer: "Insurance Policies" and "Divorce Attorneys." Outside, actual lightning cracks the sky, and the power flickers. In the momentary darkness, I see Sarah's face in the photograph again—her smile genuine in a way it hasn't been with me for years, her eyes alive with something I couldn't give her.

The goldfish keeps swimming, oblivious. Maybe it's content in its bowl. Maybe it doesn't know there's an ocean out there. Maybe ignorance is its own kind of happiness.

I close both folders and open a new document.

"Letter of Resignation."

Sometimes you have to break the bowl to find out if you can swim in something deeper.