What Floats

The goldfish had been staring at me for three weeks. Marcus left it behind when he moved out, along with the unpaid utilities and a sense of incompleteness that settled into the apartment like dust. Feed it once a day, he'd said, like it was simple. Like anything about us had been simple.

I sat on the floor with my iPhone, thumb hovering over his name in my contacts. We'd been friends for seven years, lovers for one, and now strangers for three months. The blue light washed over the fishbowl, making the goldfish's scales shimmer like something precious, though it was probably just a trick of the darkness.

"You're just waiting for food," I told it. "You don't know he's gone for good."

The dog—Marcus's dog, still technically mine until he came back for her—thumped her tail against my leg. She'd stopped waiting by the door weeks ago. Some animals learned faster than others.

On the counter, the vitamin organizer sat untouched. Marcus had been so obsessed with his health regimen in those final months. Vitamin D for mood, omega-3 for his brain, B-complex for energy. He'd said he needed to optimize himself. What he'd meant was he needed to optimize himself out of our life together.

I opened the last text he'd sent: *Can't talk now. Busy living this new life.*

The goldfish swam to the surface, opened its mouth, closed it again.

"Yeah," I said. "Me too."

I tipped the fish food into the bowl—too much or too little, I couldn't tell anymore. Watched the flakes drift down like snow in a paperweight world. Something about the way the fish moved, aimless and contained, made me think about all the things we keep alive that don't really serve us.

I picked up the vitamin container. Poured all the pills into my palm—dozens of little promises of a better tomorrow. Flush them all, or swallow them down, or just stand here holding the weight of everything he left behind.

The dog whined, low and worried.

"It's okay," I lied. "Everyone learns to swim eventually."

I dropped the vitamins one by one into the toilet. The goldfish continued its endless circuits, unaware that it had just witnessed its own revolution. Some things you don't let survive, even when you promised you would.