Tropical Decay

The papaya sat on the white linen tablecloth, bright as a wound. Elena couldn't remember if she'd ordered it. The resort restaurant was a blur of ceiling fans and efficient murmuring, executives from the pharmaceutical conference moving like clockwork dolls around her. She felt like a zombie—gray skin, hollowed out, moving through motions that had long since lost meaning.

Her iphone buzzed against the table. David again. She'd told him she needed space, that the quarterly retreat was her chance to think, but he kept sending photos of the dog, the garden, the small domestic life they'd built together that now felt like a cage. She missed him terribly. That was the problem.

"Dr. Halloway?" It was the junior analyst from Chicago, smiling with polished teeth. "Save me a seat?"

Elena nodded, watched him walk away. Twenty-six and already the vacant look in his eyes. By thirty-five, he'd be divorced and on antidepressants, climbing toward partnership with the same grim determination she'd had at his age. The thought made her sick.

She drifted toward the pool, alcohol warm in her veins. The water gleamed—chlorine blue, artificial as everything else here. Couples floated on inflatables, phones raised, capturing moments they weren't present for. Elena slipped into the water, let it close over her head. The silence was perfect.

When she surfaced, gasping, something moved at the edge of the resort grounds. A fox—lean, russet, watching her with ancient amber eyes. It shouldn't be here. This was supposed to be a paradise of predictability, room service and scheduled activities. The fox tilted its head, almost curious, then melted back into the manicured foliage.

Elena climbed from the pool, dripping and shivering despite the tropical heat. Her phone lit up with another message from David: a picture of their daughter's first loose tooth, her gap-toothed smile like a sunrise.

She pressed the phone to her chest, where her heart beat slow and steady for the first time in months. The fox had been real. Some things still were.

Back in her room, she typed: I'm coming home early. Then she ordered the biggest breakfast they had, including papaya, and ate every bite like she was coming alive again.