The Last Office Party

Elena adjusted the fascinator hat her sister had insisted she wear—something about 'dressing like she still gave a damn.' The feather bobbed with each shallow breath she took. Six months after Marcus left, and she was still attending these quarterly corporate galas alone, standing in the corner of the ballroom while goldfish swam lazy circles in their illuminated tank, oblivious to the desperate networking happening around them.

She watched Richard from across the room—the man who'd built this company from nothing, whose face now graced the pyramid-shaped awards lining the wall behind her. He'd offered her a promotion last week, something that required moving to Chicago. She'd said she needed time to think.

'You still eating those instead of real meals?'

Elena turned to find David, her ex-boyfriend from grad school, holding a tray of hors d'oeuvres. He nodded at the orange she'd been peeling, her fingers stained with juice.

'Some habits die hard.' She hadn't seen him in three years, not since he chose medicine over their shared dreams of opening a bookstore together. 'What brings you here?'

'Janet's company merged with yours.' He gestured toward a woman Elena had seen in photographs but never met. 'We're celebrating her promotion.' His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. 'She wanted to meet the woman I almost married.'

The goldfish darted suddenly, disturbing its own reflection.

'I should go—' Elena started, but David's hand on her arm stopped her.

'I've thought about you,' he said quietly. 'Every day. Janet knows. That's why she wanted us to meet. She thinks closure is... therapeutic.' He laughed bitterly. 'She brought her golden retriever. He's in the car. Same one we always said we'd get.'

The feather in Elena's hat trembled. 'You can't just—'

'I know.' David stepped closer, his familiar scent mixing with the overpowering perfume of too many people pretending to be happy. 'But Janet and I are separating. And you're alone. And somewhere in this impossible city, there's still that dream we buried.' He pressed something into her palm—a key. 'The bookstore space on Belmont. It's available. I put in an offer yesterday.'

Behind them, the goldfish continued its endless orbit, and Elena wondered if happiness was just another kind of swimming in circles, or if sometimes—just sometimes—you could find your way to something real.