Vitamin Summer

The pool was empty at 6 AM, just as Mara needed it. She'd been **swimming** every morning since Julian left, cutting through the water's silence as if each stroke could erase another memory of their seven years together. The chlorine burned her eyes, a welcome distraction from the crying she'd finally stopped doing three weeks ago.

After her laps, she sat on the locker room bench peeling an **orange**. Julian had always bought the wrong kind — too many seeds, bitter rind — but he'd also been the one to cut them into perfect segments for her breakfast. Now she tore into the fruit with practiced aggression, letting the juice run down her fingers, not caring about the sticky mess. Alone, she could eat however she wanted.

Her sister had sent her a bottle of **vitamin** D supplements with a note about winter depression, as if that could explain the hollow space in Mara's chest where her future used to be. She took them anyway, a small rebellion against Julian's constant skepticism about supplements. "Just eat real food," he'd say, while secretly ordering probiotics online.

The papaya at the grocery store had looked perfect—sunrise-colored and firm—and Mara had bought it without thinking. It sat on her counter now, a reminder of their anniversary trip to Mexico, where they'd eaten it every morning with lime and chili. She'd promised herself she'd throw it out, that she wouldn't torture herself with ghost fruit, but instead she cut it open, speared a piece, and let the sweetness flood her mouth.

Some hurts, she realized, didn't need fixing. Some things you just had to swallow.

The phone buzzed—Julian's name on the screen. She watched it ring out, then took another bite of papaya. The morning light was hitting the kitchen tiles just right. For the first time in months, she didn't feel like she was waiting for something to begin.