The Riddle of Us

The sphinx moth battered itself against the porch light, drawn to something that would burn it. Sarah watched from the doorway, wine glass in hand, while Marcus sat on the steps, staring at his iPhone like it held the meaning he'd been searching for since she asked him to leave.

"You're bearing this remarkably well," she said, not really a compliment.

He looked up, screen illuminating his exhausted face. "What choice do I have?"

The cable connecting his phone to the wall stretched between them like a lifeline she was about to cut. Three days ago, she'd found the messages. Three hours ago, she'd asked him to go. Now they were stuck in this strange suspended moment, neither of them moving.

"Remember that trip to Egypt?" Marcus asked suddenly. "The guide said the sphinx wasn't really about riddles. It was about facing yourself."

"Don't," she said. "Don't pretend this is some mystical journey. You slept with someone else."

"I know. I just—" His voice cracked. "I keep thinking if I could solve the riddle of us, I could undo it."

The moth finally gave up and disappeared into darkness. She remembered their first apartment, how they'd bought a cable spool for a coffee table because they were broke. Remembered how he'd hold her when she cried over her father's death, how he'd promised to never leave her alone in the dark like that.

Promises were just sphinx riddles without answers.

"There's no riddle," she said softly. "There's just what you did."

Marcus stood slowly, pocketing his phone. The cable disconnected with a small pop.

"I'll come back for the rest tomorrow," he said.

She watched him walk to his car, shoulders bowed like he was carrying something much heavier than a box of clothes. Some weights, she realized, you never really stopped bearing. You just learned to walk differently under them.

The sphinx moth returned, circling once, then vanishing into the night. Sarah closed the door and turned off the porch light, finally alone with the quiet she'd asked for.