The Weight of Water

Marcus stood in his living room, watching water drip from the ceiling onto the carpet below. The water main break upstairs had flooded his apartment, and now everything he owned was soaked. He picked up the cable TV box that had been sitting on the floor - ruined, just like everything else.

His phone buzzed with a message from Sarah: "Can we talk tonight?"

Marcus stared at the words, then at the water stain spreading across his ceiling. He and Sarah had been drifting apart for months, but neither of them wanted to be the one to say it out loud. Maybe this was the moment.

He walked to the kitchen, his feet squelching in his wet shoes. The only thing that hadn't been touched by the water was the fruit bowl on the counter. He picked up an orange and began to peel it, the citrus scent sharp and familiar. This was what she used to eat every morning when they first started dating. She'd said it reminded her of summers at her grandmother's house in Florida.

"The cable's out too," he muttered to himself. "Perfect."

His phone buzzed again. "Please? I think we need to talk."

Marcus ate the orange standing amid the wreckage of his apartment. The water damage was going to cost thousands. The cable would need to be replaced. His relationship was probably ending. And somewhere beneath it all, his mother was still gone, three months later, and the grief still hit him when he least expected it.

He wiped the sticky juice from his fingers and looked around at the water-stained walls. Maybe this was what he needed - everything falling apart at once so he could finally start putting it back together.

Marcus typed: "Come over at 7. There's something I need to tell you too."

He set down the orange peel, took a deep breath, and called the insurance company.