The Slow Decay of Us

Margaret stood before the bathroom mirror, pulling another silver hair from her temple. The vitamin supplements lined the counter like a pharmacy of hope—D3 for bones, B12 for energy, biotin for the very hair abandoning her scalp. At forty-seven, she'd become an expert in the slow betrayal of her own body.

In the living room, David sat on the couch, their cat Azure curled like a gray comma against his thigh. The cat had chosen him, of course. They always did. Azure tolerated Margaret's presence, accepted her food offerings, but reserved her purrs for David—the man who still believed vitamins were optional, who'd grown a beard to hide the jawline time had sharpened, who'd started talking about getting a dog. A dog. As if their life needed more loyalty, more dependence, more heart waiting to break.

"You're staring again," David said without looking up from his book. Azure lifted her head at the sound of his voice, her green eyes narrowing.

Margaret leaned against the doorframe. "I'm allowed. We're married."

"We're married. You're not a warden."

"The vitamins say otherwise. You're low on iron again, aren't you?"

He sighed, closing his book. The cat protested the movement, then resettled. "I'm fine, Meg. Not everything can be fixed with a pill."

"Everything worth fixing can."

"That's what you tell yourself."

The silence stretched between them, familiar and heavy. They'd had this conversation a dozen times. Margaret measured life in bloodwork and supplement regimens, in preventive measures and careful maintenance. David lived like he knew his expiration date and didn't care to extend it.

"I called the shelter," he said softly. "About the dog."

"And?"

"They have an old one. Arthritic. Nobody wants him."

Margaret felt something crack in her chest. "Of course you'd want the broken one."

"He's not broken. He's just... lived." David finally looked at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Like us, Meg. We're not rusted out. We're just getting started on the good part."

She touched her temple, where another silver hair had emerged unseen. The vitamins on the counter gleamed in the fluorescent light—tiny promises of control in an uncontrollable world. Azure purred against David's side, satisfied with her kingdom.

"Alright," she said. "But we're getting the dog vitamins too."