The Last Ordinary Tuesday

The vitamin D deficiency was the least of his problems. Dr. Park had said it casually, like mentioning the weather, but the way she wouldn't meet his eyes told him everything. Thomas left the office with a prescription for supplements and a referral to a specialist he couldn't afford, the fluorescent lights humming behind him like a warning.

He found himself at the grocery store an hour later, standing paralyzed in the produce section. Sarah had always been the one who bought vegetables. Now their divorce papers sat in his glove compartment, and he couldn't remember what spinach was supposed to look like when it was fresh. He grabbed a bag anyway, some performance of health he didn't feel.

The pet store was next door, its windows filled with glowing tanks. Thomas watched a goldfish float in endless circles, its orange scales flashing like tiny coins in the blue-tinted water. The fish kept swimming the same path, over and over, and something about it made his chest hurt.

"You look like shit," said a voice behind him.

Sarah. She was holding a bag of dog food, her hair wet from the rain that had started while he was inside. Water dripped from her coat onto the pavement, each drop marking time he couldn't get back.

"Doctor's appointment," he said, which wasn't an answer.

She looked at the spinach in his hand, then at his face, and something softened in her expression. "Come home," she said. "Just for dinner. The spinach will be gross if you cook it."

They ate in silence while lightning cracked the sky outside, illuminating everything and nothing at all. The goldfish swam in its bowl on the counter, oblivious, and Thomas thought about how some creatures were designed for small spaces, while others just learned to pretend they weren't drowning.