The Last Supplicant

Marcus stood before the bathroom mirror, the fluorescent light flickering like a dying heartbeat. At 47, he'd become what he once swore he'd never be: a corporate zombie, shuffling through quarterly reports and strategic initiatives while his soul slowly evaporated.

He swallowed his daily vitamin C supplements — bright orange orbs that looked like candy but tasted like obligation. His doctor said he needed them. His wife said he needed them. Maybe they were right.

The bull shit piled higher on his desk each day. That's what he called it now, not aloud, but in the quiet moments when no one was watching. The PowerPoint presentations, the visionary mission statements, the we're-all-in-this-together emails. It was all bull, and they all knew it, and they all pretended otherwise.

He'd almost drowned once, as a child. The memory still haunted him — water filling his lungs, the silence beneath the surface, the peaceful acceptance before his father's hands grabbed him. Sometimes he wondered if that peace would have been better than this.

Sarah from accounting touched his arm in the breakroom yesterday. Her fingers lingered. "You look tired, Marc."

He'd wanted to tell her everything. Instead he'd said, "Just need more coffee."

The orange sunset through his office window caught his attention. Another day ending. His phone buzzed — another email about deliverables due tomorrow. Marcus watched the sky deepen to crimson, then purple, then gray.

He opened his desk drawer. Inside lay the resignation letter he'd written three months ago and never found the courage to send. Beside it, a photo of his daughter, her smile frozen at age seven, three years ago.

The vitamin bottle sat next to the photo. He took two more, swallowing them without water.

Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow he'd be brave. Tomorrow he'd quit. Tomorrow he'd tell Sarah how her touch had awakened something dormant in his chest. Tomorrow he'd call his daughter and apologize for missing her birthday again.

Marcus closed the drawer. The bull shit could wait one more day.