The Last Vitamin Standing

The office fluorescents buzzed like dying insects as Marcus stared at his computer screen, feeling like a corporate zombie—alive but barely, going through motions that had lost all meaning three quarters ago. His palm hovered over the keyboard, sweaty and trembling.

She walked past his desk at 4:15 PM every day, the only color in this gray landscape. Sarah from accounting, carrying her orange. Always the same orange. She'd peel it slowly at her desk, the citrus scent cutting through the stale coffee and printer toner, and for five minutes, Marcus would remember what it felt like to want something.

His golden retriever waited at home, probably sleeping on the couch again. Baxter was the only thing that made sense anymore—simple devotion, uncomplicated love. Marcus had named him after the vitamin supplement his mother swore by until the cancer took her anyway. Some fucking vitamin.

Today was different. Sarah stopped at his desk, orange in hand.

"You look like you haven't slept since the Bush administration," she said, spinning the fruit between her fingers.

Marcus laughed, surprised by the sound. "Rough night. Baxter's been sick."

"The dog?"

"Yeah. He's old." Marcus swallowed the thickness in his throat. "Everything gets old."

Sarah's expression softened. She set the orange on his desk. "Take this."

"What? No, I can't—"

"Take it, Marcus. You need something that's not from a vending machine or a pill bottle." She leaned closer, her palm pressing briefly against his shoulder—warm, solid, real. "We're not dead yet. That's what my therapist says. Sometimes being a zombie is just a choice we make because it's safer than feeling something."

She walked away, leaving the orange sitting on his desk like a small sun.

Marcus picked it up, feeling the textured skin under his thumb. He thought about Baxter at home, about the way the dog still greeted him with tail-wagging joy even on the worst days. He thought about Sarah walking past his desk tomorrow, and whether he'd still be watching her like a ghost haunting his own life.

The vitamin bottle in his pocket clinked as he stood up. He tossed it in the trash can on his way out.

Some things you can't supplement. Some things you have to actually live.

He drove home with the orange on the passenger seat, windows down, and for the first time in months, Marcus didn't feel like he was waiting for something to end. He felt like he might actually be starting something new.