The Last Salad

Marcus stood in the kitchen, staring at the bag of spinach on the counter like it was a clue to a crime he hadn't realized had been committed. Their anniversary dinner. He'd spent three hours researching recipes, texting Elena's sister about her favorites, buying fresh garlic at the overpriced market downtown.

"You made salad?" Elena's voice from the doorway was flat. She was wearing the gray fedora—that hat she'd started wearing to creative writing class, tilting it at an angle that said 'I'm someone else now.' Marcus had never seen her wear it inside before.

"It's warm spinach salad with pine nuts and—"

"I ate. With Tyler. We went over plot points for his screenplay."

Something in Marcus's stomach dropped. Plot points. Tyler was twenty-four, had a man-bun, and treated every conversation like it was recorded for a podcast. Tyler, who'd been coming over twice a week for 'writing sessions' while Marcus worked late at the cable company, selling fiber-optic packages to people who couldn't afford them.

Marcus thought about the vitamin D supplements on Elena's nightstand that he'd started buying because she said the winter made her bones ache. Tyler probably did yoga. Tyler probably had strong bones.

"Your phone's been buzzing," Elena said, already turning toward the bedroom. "Work?"

Marcus glanced at his phone on the counter. A notification from his health app: Your daily streak is complete! He'd started tracking everything after his forty-fifth birthday—sleep, steps, heart rate—like if he could just quantify his life carefully enough, he might actually deserve to keep living it.

"Marcus?" Elena called from the other room. "Are you coming to bed?"

The spinach was already wilting in the pan, its deep green edges curling like old paper. He thought about the script Tyler was probably writing right now—something profound about loneliness and connection, starring a woman who looked exactly like his wife.

He turned off the burner. "Not hungry," he said, and for the first time in their marriage, it wasn't a lie.