The Last Wire Severed

Elena disconnected the coaxial cable from the wall, her fingers numb from twelve hours of nothing. The television screen went dark, finally silent. For three months after Marcus left, she'd been living like a zombie—moving through rooms she'd once filled with laughter, eating cereal over the sink at 2 AM, working spreadsheets that meant nothing to anyone.

She'd been running on autopilot. Running from the empty side of the bed. Running from the photos still framed on the mantel.

The cable bill lay on the counter, another reminder of inertia. She'd cancelled everything else—his Netflix profile, the joint credit cards, the dinner reservations for their anniversary that never came. But the cable had remained, tethering her to the same mindless entertainment they'd consumed together, side by side on this same couch, his arm heavy around her shoulders until it wasn't.

Her phone buzzed. David from accounting.

*Drinks?* it read. *Running late but I could meet you at O'Malley's in 20.*

Elena stared at the message. David, who'd been bringing her coffee since the funeral. David, who never mentioned Marcus's name but somehow always knew when she needed to escape the building for lunch. David, with his careful smiles and endless patience.

The zombie within her stirred.

She looked at the cable in her hand, at the wall socket, at the television that had broadcast hundreds of hours of strangers living fake lives while she forgot how to live her real one.

Outside, the city hummed. People were running to catch trains, running toward lovers, running away from mistakes. The world kept moving.

Elena dropped the cable into the trash. It landed with a soft thud, irretrievable.

She texted back: *Make it 15.*