The Witnesses

Sarah came home three hours early from the conference, her mind already churning with what she'd seen on his iPhone. The notification had lit up the screen while he was in the shower—her name, with a heart emoji. She'd told herself she was paranoid, that her trauma from last time was making her see patterns that weren't there.

Now she stood in their bedroom doorway, watching them. They were asleep, tangled in sheets she'd picked out herself. His hand curled possessively around someone else's waist.

She backed out silently, her heart hammering. In the kitchen, the goldfish was floating at the top of its bowl, fins barely moving. She'd won it for him at a carnival four years ago, the night they met. It had survived three apartments, two career changes, and his mother's death. Now it seemed to be waiting for something.

"You're the lucky one," she whispered to the fish. "You'll be dead in a week, and you won't even know it."

Her phone buzzed. Her mother, asking about the baseball game they were supposed to watch together Sunday. Sarah's hands shook as she typed: Something came up. Can't make it.

Outside, a fox trotted across the lawn, stopping to look back at her through the sliding glass door. Its eyes were intelligent, knowing. She'd seen it before, always at moments that felt like turning points. The day she got the promotion. The night she decided to move in with Mark.

Now it was here again, witness to this.

Their dog, Buster, pressed his wet nose against her palm. He'd been her companion through college, through bad dates and worse jobs. He was thriteen now, his muzzle gray. He looked up at her with ancient eyes, seeming to ask: What do we do now?

"We don't do anything, Buster," she said, her voice strange to her own ears. "Not yet."

She went to the closet and pulled down a suitcase. The goldfish swam lazily to the surface, opening and closing its mouth in silent observation. Some things, she realized, survived everything. Others didn't survive at all.

The fox was gone when she looked back out the window. Some witnesses, at least, knew how to leave gracefully.