The Riddle at the End of the Shift

Maya stood by the edge of the infinity pool, the hotel's lights bleeding across the dark water like shattered jewels. Thirty-two years old and already feeling like she'd given her best years to a consulting firm that would replace her before her chair grew cold. The corporate retreat had been her boss's idea—team building, he'd called it. More like learning to smile while they sharpened their knives together.

Her cat, Milo, would be waiting at home. The one living thing that didn't ask anything of her except food and occasional scratches behind the ears. Sometimes she wondered if Milo had it figured out—existential dread through naps and tuna.

"You're going to jump in, or just contemplate your mortality all night?"

She turned. Lucas from mergers and acquisitions. The office bull who'd made her cry in her first month, though now she understood he was just another animal in the pen, all teeth and terror because he was more scared than anyone.

"Just thinking about riddles," she said.

"Riddles?"

"The sphinx," Maya said. "You know what she asked? What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, three in the evening. The answer is man—we crawl, we walk, we lean on canes. But I always thought she got it wrong."

Lucas leaned against the railing, surprisingly quiet. "How so?"

"Because the real question isn't how we move," Maya said, stripping off her heels, "but what we become. And the real answer isn't man—it's alone. We're born alone, we die alone, everything in between is just... trying."

She stepped into the pool fully clothed, the shock of cold like waking up from a long dream she hadn't realized she was dreaming.

Lucas watched her for a moment, then kicked off his shoes and followed.

The betting pool back at the office had them together by Christmas. They didn't know Maya had already placed money on herself—that by then, she'd be gone.