The Weight of Water

The vitamin regimen was hers first—a precise morning ritual that now sat accusingly on his counter. Vitamin D, B-complex, omega-3. Each container a tombstone to the life they'd built together. Marco stared at the orange plastic bottles, remembering how she'd arranged them alphabetically, her fingers dancing across the counter like she was conducting a symphony of wellness.

Now, three months after Sofia walked out, the pool in their backyard—his backyard—had gone green. He hadn't bothered with the chemicals. Let it fester. Let it become something else entirely.

"Mr. Herrera?" The voice from the door jolted him. Elena, the new neighbor, stood holding a towel and racquet. "I'm heading to padel court. Want to join?"

Marco nearly laughed. Padel. The sport Sofia had dragged him to, pretending they'd become one of those couples who wore matching outfits and played weekend tournaments. He'd hated every contrived moment of it—the forced camaraderie, the way they kept score like their marriage depended on it.

"Sorry," he said. "Not today."

Her cat, a ragged orange tabby named Churro, wound around his legs. Elena had confided, drunk on cheap wine at the building's failed Cinco de Mayo party, that Churro was the only male who'd never disappointed her. Marco had nodded, understanding more than he'd wanted to admit.

That night, unable to sleep, he found himself at the edge of the pool. The moonlight caught on the algae-slicked surface, turning it into something resembling a bruise. He remembered what Sofia had said during their last fight: I can't bear the weight of your expectations anymore, Marco. They're crushing me.

He'd thought she was being dramatic. Now, standing alone in his underwear at 3 AM, he understood. Expectations were heavy. Memories were heavier.

The cat appeared again, sitting beside him, staring into the murky water as if contemplating depths Marco couldn't fathom. Marco took a breath, then dove—fully clothed—into the green.

The shock knocked the air from him. He surfaced gasping, sputtering, alive in a way he hadn't been in months. The cat watched, impassive, as Marco treaded water, laughing at the absurdity of it all. Tomorrow, he'd buy shock treatment. Tomorrow, he'd ask Elena about padel lessons. Tomorrow, he'd throw away the vitamins.

Tonight, he'd just float.