The Papaya Protocol

The goldfish had been dead for three days before anyone noticed. That was the kind of office it was—translucent bodies floating in neglected tanks, metaphorical and literal. Sarah had discovered it Tuesday morning, her coffee paused halfway to her lips as she stared into the murky water. Another metaphor for their department, really.

"Did you hear about Elena?" Marcus whispered, leaning too close, his papaya-scented breath invading her personal space. He'd become obsessed with the fruit since returning from that "wellness retreat" in Costa Rica—said it changed his life. Sarah suspected it had just changed his bowel movements.

"Hear what?" Sarah asked, though she'd already seen the calendar invite. Elena's final day was Friday. A strategic exit, two weeks before the layoffs.

"She's taking the consulting package. Four months severance."

Sarah felt something shift in her chest. Not betrayal, exactly—she and Elena had never been *friends* in the true sense. They'd grabbed drinks twice in three years. But they'd covered for each other during the Q3 disaster. They'd shared that knowing look during budget meetings when management promised "synergy" while cutting resources.

"You should go for it too," Marcus said, already planning his own survival. "Before they close the window."

Sarah watched him type something into his phone, probably an email to HR. That was Marcus—always moving, never still, like the goldfish that had kept swimming even after the food stopped coming.

"I'm good," she said, turning back to her spreadsheet.

Marcus left to strategize his departure. Sarah stayed. The office felt suddenly vast, populated by ghosts of future departures. She opened her desk drawer and found the dried papaya wedge Elena had given her last month—*"try this, it's surprisingly good"*—which she'd forgotten to eat. It sat there like a small, shriveled promise between colleagues who'd never see each other again.

The goldfish, at least, had stopped swimming when the time came. Some days, Sarah envied it that clarity.