The Orange Cat at Midnight

Julia stood at the bathroom mirror, pulling strands of gray hair from her temples. Forty-two years old and suddenly everything felt like it was fraying at the edges. Behind her, in the small apartment she'd shared with Mark for eight years, an orange cat sat watching from the doorway.

"He's not coming back, you know," she told the cat, though she wasn't sure which of them she was trying to convince.

The cat — Mark's parting gift, left behind like everything else — merely blinked and began washing its paw.

Mark had left three mornings ago with nothing but a suitcase and his running shoes. Julia had watched from the window as he jogged away, each step carrying him further from their life together, their shared mortgage, the goldfish bowl they'd bought on their first anniversary that now swam with only one fish.

The remaining goldfish, a depressed-looking fantail named Barbara, stared blankly from her glass prison on the kitchen counter. Julia poured wine and considered the irony: she'd spent years taking care of everything else while Mark focused on himself. His career, his marathon training, his sudden midlife crisis.

"At least Barbara's honest about being trapped," she muttered, uncorking the second bottle.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Mark: *Can we talk?*

Julia's thumb hovered over the screen. The apartment felt too large, too quiet, too full of ghosts. She remembered Mark's laughter when they'd bought the orange cat from the shelter — "We're rescuing each other," he'd said, so sincere, so hopeful. That was before the promotions and the late nights and the gradual hollowing out of everything they'd built.

Outside, she could hear someone running. Footfalls on pavement, rhythmic and determined. Maybe it was Mark, maybe a stranger. It didn't matter.

Julia deleted the text without opening it. She walked to the kitchen, dropped a pinch of fish food into Barbara's bowl, and watched the water ripple. "You and me, kid," she whispered. The orange cat rubbed against her leg, purring like a small motor rebuilding the world.