Water Damage

Elena stood in the ruined kitchen, ankle-deep in murky water that had been rising since the pipe burst at 3 AM. Her husband's lucky baseball cap floated past like a small, derelict boat—navy blue, stained with sweat from a thousand games he'd watched while she worked two jobs.

"You could have turned off the main valve," Marcus said from the doorway, not stepping in. He adjusted his own hat, pristine and new.

"I was sleeping. In our bed. Alone. Again." She didn't look at him. She watched the cap bob against the dishwasher door.

The dog, Buster—a golden retriever Marcus had brought home six years ago to fix their marriage—whined and backed away from the water. Elena had walked him at 5 AM. She fed him. She'd scheduled his vet appointments. Marcus just wanted the photo ops.

"The insurance adjuster comes at noon," Marcus said. "We need to make this look—"

"Make it look like what? Like we live here? Like we're a family?" Elena finally turned. Water seeped into her socks, cold and creeping. "Your mother's coming Sunday. Should I tell her we sleep in separate rooms? Or should I keep playing the game?"

Marcus's jaw worked. "Elena, please. Not now."

"When then? When the basement floods too? When one of us dies?" She bent down and fished the baseball cap from the water. It dripped brownish liquid onto her palm. "This was your dad's. You wore it when we got married. You said it was lucky."

"It's just a hat."

"No," she said softly. "It's a lot of things. Just like this water. Just like us."

She dropped the cap into the sink. It made a soft, wet sound, like giving up. Buster inched forward and nudged her wet hand with his nose.

"The adjuster," Marcus said again, weaker now.

"Call them yourself," Elena said. "I'm going to pack."

She waded toward the bedroom, leaving wet footprints on the dry carpet. Behind her, she heard Buster following, the click of his claws keeping time with something that was finally ending.