The Sphinx in the Rain

The fox appeared at 3 AM, a flash of rusted orange against the wet pavement, carrying something in its mouth—what, Elena couldn't tell. She watched from her bedroom window, iphone clutched in hand, screen glowing with unanswered messages from Marcus. Tomorrow she would delete his number. Tonight she just watched the fox disappear into the storm drain where College Avenue met the older part of town, where the sphinx had sat for seventy years in front of the closed museum.

The sphinx had lost its nose to vandalism in the nineties. Elena had always found it grotesque, especially on nights like this when lightning cracked the sky open and the rain came down in sheets. But Marcus had loved it. He'd proposed right there, on one knee, while tourists snapped photos and a dog walked by with an elderly couple who smiled at their youth.

That was three years ago. The dog was probably dead by now. Marcus was certainly gone from her life, though his ghost haunted every room of their apartment. He'd packed his things last Tuesday while she was at work, leaving only the ikea lamp she'd hated and a note that said, I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say.

Lightning struck again, closer this time. The thunder followed almost immediately, rattling the windowpane. Outside, something moved in the alleyway—another fox, or perhaps the same one returning. Elena imagined it prowling the streets like her own restlessness, like the way she'd been driving past Marcus's new apartment complex every night at 11 PM, not stalking, just...

Just what?

Her iphone buzzed. Unknown caller. She almost answered, then remembered: Sarah from HR had called yesterday. The company was downsizing. They'd let her go by month's end. Another ending.

The fox emerged from the shadows, sat on its haunches, and looked directly at her window. Its eyes caught a streetlamp's reflection—two small, golden moons. For a long moment they watched each other through the glass and rain, two creatures awake in a sleeping city. Then it dipped its head, dropped the object it carried, and Elena saw it was a child's stuffed dog, muddy and missing an ear.

The fox nudged the toy, then vanished into the night.

Elena set down the phone, finally. She would not call Marcus. She would not drive past his building. Tomorrow she would pack the ikea lamp in a box and take it to goodwill. She would start over.

For now, she watched the rain and thought about the sphinx, broken-nosed and patient, waiting out another storm. Some things, she realized, could endure even after everything that made them whole had been taken away.