The Weight of Waiting

Mara pressed her **palm** against the cold windowpane, watching the rain blur the city lights into impressionist smears. Three months since Daniel left, and she'd become something of a **zombie** herself—moving through each day with the hollow efficiency of the walking dead. Her coworkers had stopped asking if she was okay. Nobody wants to know the answer to that question anyway.

The **cat**, Barnaby, wound himself around her ankles, his purr a small, insistent reminder that life continued in its stubborn way. She'd never wanted a pet, but Daniel had brought him home as a kitten, eyes like copper coins. Now Barnaby was the only one who waited for her to come home.

She sat on the couch and reached for the **cable** connecting her laptop to the wall—her lifeline to work, to distraction, to the illusion of purpose. The internet had been out since the storm, and somehow that felt fitting. Like the universe was telling her to stop scrolling through photos of a life that no longer existed.

Her phone buzzed. Unknown number. She almost didn't answer.

"Mara?"

The voice was familiar and not. "This is Sarah. Daniel's sister."

Mara's heart did something complicated. "Oh."

"I found something of yours. When he moved out."

A pause filled with everything they weren't saying.

"He left it behind, but I think he meant for you to have it."

Mara closed her eyes. Outside, the rain intensified. "You can throw it away."

"It's not garbage, Mara. It's—" Sarah stopped. "He was going to give it to you the night everything fell apart."

The silence stretched, taut as a wire.

"I'm on 5th Street," Sarah said quietly. "I can leave it outside."

Mara looked at Barnaby, now curled into a perfect circle on the cushion beside her. She thought about the version of herself that was simply waiting—for what, she didn't know. For the internet to come back. For time to pass. For something to change.

"I'll come now," she said.

She grabbed her keys. Outside, the rain had stopped. The air smelled of wet pavement and possibility. And for the first time in months, the zombie in her stirred.