The Padel Court at Midnight

The papaya at breakfast had tasted like regret. That should have been my first warning.

I stood on the padel court at 11:47 PM, the fluorescent lights humming like trapped insects, while my iphone vibrated against the bench — her again. Three years divorced, and Elena still texted me during panic attacks like I was her personal vitamin supplement, essential for survival but easily forgotten once the crisis passed.

'David. I need you. The dreams are back.'

The lightning storm was gathering beyond the glass walls of the club, purple veins in a blackened sky. I'd joined the padel league three months ago, desperate for something — anything — that wasn't my empty apartment or my job processing insurance claims for people who'd already lost everything. Tonight's match had ended hours ago, but I'd stayed, hitting balls against the wall until my shoulder screamed.

My phone lit up again. 'Are you there?'

I sat on the bench, head in my hands. The papaya surfaced in my memory — sweet, cloying, leaving that strange metallic aftertaste nobody talks about. Like our marriage, really. Beautiful on the surface, fermenting underneath.

'Please respond. I took my vitamins wrong. I think I'm dying.'

A crack of thunder shook the building. The lights flickered. In that moment of darkness, I remembered the night she'd left, standing in our kitchen with a packed suitcase, telling me I was emotionally constipated, that I'd been taking our relationship like a daily supplement — mechanical, routine, devoid of joy.

She wasn't wrong. I'd been checking boxes in life like I was working through a nutrition checklist. Job, marriage, mortgage, health insurance. Always the right amounts, never the right meaning.

The lightning struck closer now, illuminating the empty padel court in stroboscopic flashes. I picked up my phone, typed and deleted three responses.

Then: 'Call your doctor. I can't be your vitamin anymore.'

I turned off my phone and walked out into the storm, letting the rain wash the papaya taste from my mouth at last.