The Prescription

Marcus stared at the orange pill on his nightstand—a vitamin D supplement his doctor insisted he take. At forty-two, he'd apparently become deficient in everything: sunlight, joy, purpose.

The glass of water beside it had been sitting there since morning. Condensation dripped down the sides, pooling on the mahogany. Sarah used to coasters. She used to care about the water rings that marred the furniture they'd picked out together, back when they still made decisions together.

Three months since she'd walked out. Since she'd said, 'Marcus, I can't live in your shadow anymore.'

He swallowed the vitamin without the water. It caught in his throat, chalky and defiant—like swallowing his pride.

Downstairs, his phone vibrated. Sarah. Probably calling about the divorce papers. Or the house. Their marriage had become a series of transactions, each one costing something he couldn't afford to lose.

He didn't answer.

Instead, he walked to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of orange juice. The carton was expired by two weeks. Everything in this house was expired—relationships, dreams, hope. He drank it anyway, the acidity burning his throat, and thought about how Sarah used to cut oranges into perfect segments on Sunday mornings, placing them on a ceramic plate like she was arranging something sacred.

That ritual had stopped somewhere around year seven. Around the time the promotions came, the late nights, the affairs that neither of them admitted but both knew about.

The vitamin bottle sat on the counter. Doctor's orders: take daily for optimal health. But what was health without someone to share it with? What was the point of living longer if you were just extending a sentence?

Marcus turned on the faucet and watched the water run, thinking about how Sarah had always talked about moving somewhere near the ocean. How she wanted to wake up to water every day, to rinse away the years of city living.

He'd told her they couldn't afford it. The truth was, he couldn't afford to change.

Now the house was finally quiet. No arguments about money or whose turn it was to do the dishes. No passive-aggressive comments about whose career mattered more.

Marcus swallowed another vitamin without water. Let it choke him if it wanted to. At least he'd feel something real.