The Last Living Thing

She moved through the apartment like a zombie—not the flesh-eating kind from movies, but the worse variety: the living dead who still had to pay rent and show up to Zoom meetings by 9 AM. Three years of middle management at a tech startup that promised to 'disrupt cat food delivery' had hollowed her out completely.

Marcus was already asleep when she crawled into bed at 11:47 PM. His back was turned. They hadn't made love in six months, unless you counted that pity-fuck after his mother's funeral, and she preferred not to count anything that involved both of them crying afterward.

The dog, Buster, sensed something was wrong. He always did. The old golden retriever padded into their bedroom, nails clicking on hardwood, and rested his chin on her side of the bed. His brown eyes held more wisdom than her entire department combined.

'Not tonight, buddy,' she whispered, but he didn't move. Just breathed. Just stayed.

From the windowsill, the cat—Luna, Marcus's emotional support animal from before they'd even met—watched with that predatory stillness that made you wonder if she'd ever loved them at all, or simply tolerated their service.

Buster's warmth against her palm was the first real thing she'd felt in weeks. Not a notification, not a performance review, not another conversation about whether they were 'ready' to try for a baby.

'I'm going to leave him,' she said to the dog.

Buster thumped his tail twice, then closed his eyes.

Outside, the city hummed with millions of people half-alive, going through motions, waiting for something to shatter them or save them. She pressed her face into Buster's fur and smelled earth and devotion and something fundamentally uncomplicated.

The cat jumped down from the windowsill and curled against Buster's back. For a moment, all three of them breathed together in the dark.

Tomorrow she'd quit. Tomorrow she'd tell Marcus the truth—that she'd been a zombie for years, and only the animals had noticed.

But tonight, she let herself be held by something that loved her without conditions. Tonight was enough.