The Lightning Strike

The coaxial cable lay severed on the floor, a dark snake against the hotel room's pristine carpet. Elena stared at it, the way she'd stared at her marriage for the past three years—broken beyond any quick fix.

"Room service," a voice called.

She opened the door to find Marcus, her former business partner turned something like a friend again after the lawsuit. He held two racquets.

"Padel court's empty," he said. "Remember how we used to play? Before everything went to shit?"

Elena touched her hair—still thick, still dark at forty-five, unlike the streak of white she'd discovered after David left. She'd started dyeing it last month. Small betrayals added up.

"I'm tired, Marcus."

"The client meeting isn't until tomorrow. Come on. Just hits. No talking."

They walked to the court in silence. The sky bruised purple, storm clouds gathering like thoughts she kept pushing away. Marcus served first. The ball cracked against the wall, echoing like a sentence she couldn't take back.

They fell into rhythm, the game they'd played a decade ago when their startup was just coffee and dreams and David would pick her up afterward, smelling of whiskey and other women's perfume.

Lightning struck somewhere beyond the hotel perimeter. The court flickered.

"He's marrying her," Elena said between volleys. "The twenty-four-year-old from accounting."

Marcus missed the ball. "David's an idiot. Always was."

"She has perfect hair," Elena said, and laughed darkly. "That's what he told me. Among other things."

Another lightning flash, closer this time. The air smelled of ozone and impending something.

"You know what's funny?" Elena said, smashing the ball so hard it rebounded wildly. "I'm the one who built the company. I'm the one who made us millionaires. And I'm alone in a hotel room with a severed cable and no husband and you."

Marcus walked to the net. "I'm here, El."

"You sued me for intellectual property theft."

"I was scared. And wrong. I admitted that. I flew halfway across the country to tell you that at the gala you skipped."

The sky opened. Rain drenched them instantly.

Marcus laughed. "Remember that rooftop party? The lightning storm? You said storms made you feel alive."

Elena stood in the downpour, water plastering her hair to her face. The cable was still broken. David was still gone. Her company was still half Marcus's again, somehow.

But the rain felt like something.

"One more set," she said.

They played in the storm, the ball skidding on wet ground, lightning turning the court strobe-light bright, two damaged people hitting something back and forth in the dark, neither keeping score.