The Last Supper

Marcus stared at the vitamin bottle spinning on the restaurant table between them. The label promised eternal wellness, but the supplement was actually part of the pyramid scheme that had hollowed out their friendship over the past six months. Outside, rain streaked against the bistro window like tears that wouldn't fall.

"You just need to believe in the system," Sarah said, her voice losing that desperate edge he'd heard too many times lately. She traced patterns in the condensation on her wine glass. "I've already made back my initial investment. Twice."

Marcus watched her—really saw her—for the first time in months. The expensive highlights in her hair, the designer dress she'd bought with commission money, the carefully practiced enthusiasm that had become her default setting. They'd been friends since college, survived bad breakups and career changes and his mother's death. But this was different. This wasn't just a disagreement about money; it was about how they saw the world.

"Sarah," he said gently, "you sold your car. You're three months behind on rent. You asked my sister for five thousand dollars last week."

She deflated. The sales pitch vanished. "I thought... if I could just reach the next tier, everything would be okay. My mom needs that surgery, and the insurance is fighting it. I thought I could fix it."

Marcus reached across the table and took her hand. Her fingers were cold.

"You could have asked me for help," he said. "We could have figured it out together. That's what friends do."

The vitamin bottle sat between them like a monument to poor choices. Sarah's eyes filled with tears. "I didn't want to be the charity case again. The one who always needs rescuing."

Marcus signaled for the check and thought about how adult friendship was sometimes just watching someone you love make mistakes you can't fix, then helping them pick up the pieces anyway. He'd pay for dinner. They'd walk to her car. He'd help her cancel the auto-ship tomorrow. Tonight, he'd just be her friend.

Outside, the rain had stopped. The city lights reflected in puddles on the sidewalk, making everything shimmer like possibility.