The Zombie's Padel Match

The meeting ended at 7:14 PM. Julian checked his iPhone—fourteen missed calls from Elena, none from his children. He was 42, married fourteen years, and felt like a zombie moving through a life he no longer recognized. The condo complex's pool area was empty when he arrived, except for her.

She sat on a lounge chair, eating papaya with messy fingers. Sarah, the new litigation associate from the firm. 28, brilliant, and unhappily married to the senior partner's son. The papaya juice dripped down her wrist, glistening in the pool lights' reflection.

"You're playing padel with me tonight," she said, not asking. "My partner cancelled."

Julian should have gone home. Should have called Elena back. Instead, he found himself on the padel court at 8 PM, smashing balls against the wall while Sarah laughed with a freedom he'd forgotten existed. Her skirt rode up when she lunged for a difficult shot. Julian watched, then forced himself to look away.

"You're playing like a zombie," she teased, breathless.

"Feel like one."

She walked to the net, leaned in. "Then let's wake you up."

The kiss tasted of papaya and desperation. Her skin was impossibly soft against his calloused hands. They ended up in the pool, clothes discarded on the concrete, water cool around their naked bodies. For twenty minutes, Julian wasn't a zombie. He wasn't a husband or father or senior associate. He was just a man who hadn't felt alive in years.

His iPhone buzzed from the pile of clothes. Elena. Again.

Sarah's fingers traced the scars on his back. "Go home, Julian."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Then you're not a zombie." She pulled away, treading water. "You're something worse."

He watched her swim to the pool's edge, climb out, dress in the moonlight. His phone buzzed twice more. The papaya sat forgotten on the table, turning brown in the night air.

Julian remained in the pool until his skin pruned, until the water felt warmer than the world awaiting him. When he finally checked his iPhone, Elena had stopped calling.

Some zombies never wake up. Some just learn to walk among the living, hungry for something they can never name.