Three Lives Left

The lightning struck just as Maya's key turned in the lock, that violent flash illuminating everything she'd been avoiding for six months. Her friend's apartment smelled of stale coffee and loneliness. Two abandoned cat bowls on the kitchen floor, water evaporated to a thin rim of mineral scale.

She hadn't meant to stay away this long. But after Daniel's funeral, when Elena had looked at her with those devastatingly empty eyes and said, "I need space," Maya had given her exactly that. Too much space, it turned out.

The cat—a fat, imperious tabby named Barnaby—appeared from the bedroom, miaowing accusations. Elena had always called him her emotional support animal, mostly because he refused to care about anyone's feelings but his own. Daniel had loved that about him.

"You're looking after yourself, at least," Maya said, setting down the grocery bag. The cat rubbed against her ankle, forgiving her instantly. Typical.

She found Elena on the fire escape, smoking and watching another storm roll in across the skyline.

"I thought you quit."

Elena flicked ash into the darkness. "I thought you were coming back."

The lightning flashed again, closer now. Between the thunder and the nicotine, they were both shaking.

"I'm sorry," Maya said. "I thought you wanted—"

"I wanted you to fight for me." Elena's voice cracked. "But you just... disappeared. Like everyone else."

"Not everyone."

"No. Not everyone."

The silence stretched between them, charged and heavy, until Barnaby shoved his head through the open window, demanding dinner. Elena laughed—the first real laugh Maya had heard from her in half a year.

"He missed you," Elena said. "I didn't feed him for three days after you stopped coming over. He made his feelings very clear."

Maya stepped onto the fire escape. "He has opinions."

"He gets that from Daniel."

The lightning forked across the sky, and suddenly they were both crying, tangled together on a stranger's fire escape in the rain, the kind of cry that comes when grief finally finds its next shape. The cat watched from the window, judgmental and patient, as they mourned not just what they'd lost but what they'd nearly lost.

"Stay tonight," Elena said, when the storm had passed to distant rumbles. "Barnaby's not the only one who needs his friend back."

Maya followed her inside, leaving the door unlocked just in case lightning struck twice.