Three Seconds of Memory

Maya sat cross-legged on the bathroom floor, gathering strands of hair from the brush. Gray hair, mostly—too much of it for thirty-four. She twisted them around her finger like a tiny rope. Behind her, the toilet flushed, then the sink faucet screamed on.

'You doing that thing again?' Marcus called through the open door.

'Just thinking.' She dropped the hair into the wastebasket. 'Dave called today. His wife's pregnant.'

Silence. Then: 'That's what, the third one this month?'

Maya's reflection in the mirror showed eyes that had learned to expect disappointment. 'Everyone else is moving on, Marcus. We're still here.'

He appeared in the doorway, hair wet from the shower, chest bare. 'We said we'd wait. After the miscarriage—'

'I know what we said.' She stood up, knees cracking. 'But we bought the goldfish anyway, didn't we?'

The fish bowl sat on the windowsill, orange fish drifting through plastic greenery. They'd bought it the week after the D&C, some desperate bid for something to keep alive. It had survived three years.

'That's different.' Marcus leaned against the doorframe. 'Fish aren't babies, Maya.'

'Aren't they?' She moved to the window, watching dust motes catch the afternoon light. 'Something small. Something that needs you. It's not so different.'

Outside, lightning cracked the sky violet—a sudden electric fracture that made them both flinch. Thunder followed, shaking the windowpane. The fish darted to the bottom of its bowl.

'Maybe it's time,' Maya said softly. 'To either try again, or—to stop waiting.' She pressed her palm against the cold glass. 'This in-between is killing me.'

Marcus stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. She could feel his breath against her neck, warm and familiar. 'Okay,' he said. 'Let's call the doctor tomorrow.'

Outside, rain began to fall, washing the dust from the air. The goldfish swam up to the surface, mouth opening and closing in the quiet rhythm of survival. Maya let herself lean back into him, finally allowing herself to hope that some things, with enough care, could still learn to live.