The Last Authentic Thing

Maya adjusted her fedora, tilting the brim against the fluorescent glare of the conference room. The quarterly review had dragged on for three hours, and she could feel herself becoming one of them—the zombie-like middle managers, nodding at buzzwords they'd stopped hearing years ago.

"Our new organizational pyramid," Brad was saying, gesturing at the slide with corporate enthusiasm. "It's all about synergy at every level."

Maya's phone buzzed. A photo from home: her elderly golden retriever, Buster, asleep on her sofa. The sight hit her with unexpected force. She'd left him alone again. The separation anxiety worked both ways.

"Maya? Your thoughts on the KPI cascade?"

She blinked. The HDMI cable connecting Brad's laptop had come loose, and the pyramid wavered on screen, flickering like a dying television signal. In that moment of glitchy uncertainty, something broke inside her.

"I think," she said, standing up, "that I need to go home."

The room went silent. Twenty faces turned toward her, expressions ranging from confusion to judgment.

"Brad, your presentation is fine. The pyramid makes sense. But I'm forty-two years old, and I just realized I've spent sixteen years climbing a structure I don't believe in, while the only living thing that actually loves me waits alone in my apartment." She removed her hat, ran a hand through her hair. "I'm not doing this anymore."

She walked out, leaving her laptop, her notes, her career. In the parking garage, she called her sister. "I think I just quit my job."

"Finally," her sister said. "What took you so long?"

"I don't know. Fear? Habit?" Maya started her car. "I feel like I've been sleepwalking for a decade."

"That's what happens when you let yourself become a zombie," her sister said gently. "Welcome back to the living."

When Maya opened her door, Buster lifted his head, tail thumping a slow, steady rhythm against the cushions. She buried her face in his fur, breathing him in, and for the first time in years, she didn't feel like she was pretending to be someone she wasn't.

"We're going to be okay," she whispered. "Just us. No more pyramids."