The Sphinx of Amsterdam Avenue

Elena hadn't been back to the apartment since the breakup, but the key still worked in the lock. She was feeling like a zombie lately — moving through her days at the marketing firm on autopilot, responding to emails and attending meetings while something vital inside her remained dead, or at least dormant.

The apartment was exactly as Marco had left it three months ago when he walked out with nothing but a backpack and his iPhone. Elena had thought he'd come back for the rest of his things, but he hadn't. His clothes were still in the closet. His books still lined the shelves. And the sphinx statue they'd bought together in Rome still sat on the mantelpiece, its enigmatic limestone face staring out over the room like it knew something Elena didn't.

She walked to the fish tank in the corner. The goldfish — a fantail with flowing white fins — swam in slow circles, unchanged by the human drama that had upended everything else in this apartment. Marco had bought it on impulse from a street fair, saying they needed something alive in the space. Now it was the only living thing that remained of their life together.

Elena's phone buzzed in her pocket. A work Slack notification. She ignored it. She wasn't here to work. She was here to finally pack his things, to break the spell she'd been under since he'd left, to stop haunting their former life like a ghost.

She picked up the sphinx statue, running her fingers over its weathered surface. In Rome, Marco had joked that the sphinx posed riddles you couldn't answer, and maybe that had been true of their relationship too. Some questions didn't have solutions. Some mysteries weren't meant to be solved.

The goldfish swam to the surface, breaking the water's tension with its open mouth. Elena watched it for a long moment, then began to pack.