The Sphinx at Sunset

Margaret stood at the edge of the infinity pool at the Luxor, her silk robe fluttering in the desert wind. Below, the Strip stretched like a bleeding artery, pulsing with desperate hope and manufactured joy. She'd come here for the merger conference, but really, she'd come to decide whether to leave her husband of twenty-seven years.

The glass pyramid loomed behind her, its black angles slicing the sky into artificial triangles. Inside, executives were already drinking, comparing bonuses, pretending their work mattered. Margaret had stopped pretending three years ago, around the time Richard stopped looking at her like she was a mystery worth solving.

She walked past the replica sphinx, its stone face worn smooth by thousands of tourists seeking wisdom in fiberglass and concrete. What riddle did she need answered? How had desire curdled into something that looked like love but tasted like resignation?

Her phone buzzed. Richard. Again. Tomorrow was their anniversary. He'd want to go to that Italian place with the checkered tablecloths, the one where they'd first said "I love you" over carbonara and cheap wine. Now they ate in silence while the television filled the space between them.

Margaret found herself at a palm reader's booth tucked between slot machines. The old woman took her hand, traced the life line with nicotine-stained fingers. "You're at a crossroads," she said, not looking up. "Stay, and you disappear. Leave, and you break something that can never be fixed."

"What's the third option?"

The woman looked up then, eyes like chipped flint. "There isn't one. That's the joke."

Back in her room, Margaret called Richard. His voicemail picked up—their dog barking in the background, Buster, who still greeted her like she'd been gone for years even when she'd just been to the grocery store. Buster loved without condition. Buster didn't calculate the cost of devotion.

"Hey," she said to the silence. "I think I'm not coming back. Not right away. Maybe not ever."

She hung up before she could take it back. The neon from the pyramid cast shadows across the bed like prison bars. Margaret lay down fully clothed and finally allowed herself to weep for everything she'd almost become.