The Riddle of Drowning

The zombie state had settled in around month three of the divorce—the automatic movements through rooms that felt too large, the hollowed-out chest performing routine motions while something essential watched from a distance. Elena sat on her hotel balcony in San Diego, watching the **water** stretch toward an horizon that seemed to recede each time she tried to focus on it.

Behind her, the television flickered with the mute on, some reality show where people screamed at each other across restaurant tables. The **cable** connection had been spotty all evening, the signal pixelating and freezing—fitting, really. Everything in her life felt fragmented lately, moments dropping out like bad data packets.

She peeled an **orange**, the citrus spray sharp against her fingers. The color reminded her of David's sunset-colored ties, the ones she'd bought him for Christmas because she thought he needed more warmth in his corporate wardrobe. He'd worn them to meetings where he laid people off.

That was the **sphinx** of it all—the riddle she couldn't solve: how could the same hands that had held hers through three miscarriages also sign termination notices without seeming to feel anything? How had they become strangers who knew exactly how to hurt each other?

David had called yesterday. His voice had that carefully neutral quality, like he'd rehearsed the conversation. "I think we should try counseling. One more time."

"Why?" she'd asked, and she'd meant it genuinely. She wasn't being cruel. She just couldn't remember how to want.

"Because we made promises," he'd said, and she'd heard something break in his voice—the first real thing in months.

Elena dropped the orange peel into the wastebasket. Below, the pool lights created shifting patterns on the water. She felt like she was underwater, everything muffled and slow, moving through the thickened atmosphere of a life that no longer fit.

The phone buzzed. David's name appeared on screen.

She answered, and for the first time in months, didn't feel like a zombie at all. She felt terrifyingly awake.