The Last Pyramid
The orange light of dawn hit my kitchen window just as I swallowed my daily vitamin pack—twenty supplements wrapped in plastic, promised to deliver everything my body had lost by forty-five.
On the fire escape, the stray cat I'd named Carmen watched me with ancient, judgmental eyes. She appeared three months ago, scarred and skeptical, accepting only the tuna I left out. Today, she deigned to eat from my hand, her rough tongue scraping my palm, and I felt an absurd surge of victory.
My phone buzzed. Marcus, the regional director for what remained of our operation. The pyramid scheme I'd sunk my savings into three years ago had collapsed in stages—first the regulatory investigations, then the federal charges, finally the public unraveling. Marcus still sent motivational quotes at 6 AM, still insisted the wellness revolution was coming.
"They found another body in the rubble," he'd told me yesterday, using the construction collapse as a metaphor for our fallen empire. Marcus was like that—dramatic, relentless, a bull who couldn't understand why the china shop kept breaking.
I'd stopped answering his calls three weeks ago.
Carmen finished her tuna and licked her chops. I thought about leaving my husband Michael, who'd supported my delusions for two years before quietly moving into the guest room. He still made coffee every morning, still left sticky notes on the bathroom mirror. Love, or habit—I couldn't tell the difference anymore.
The vitamin distributorship had cost us everything: the college fund, the retirement account, Michael's trust. I'd believed. I'd needed to believe.
Carmen butted her head against my ankle, demanding attention. I knelt on the linoleum, letting her purr reverberate through my chest. Some truths were simple. Feed the cat. Drink the coffee. Wake up tomorrow.
The pyramid had crumbled, but the sky was still turning pink. Somewhere, Michael was probably awake. I could hear him in the hallway, his slippered feet soft on the hardwood.
I stood up, fed Carmen one more treat, and went to find my husband.