What Remains in the Water

The pool had gone stagnant over the three weeks since Elena left. Green algae skimmed the surface like a bruise, and Marcus stood at the edge with a net, wondering why he bothered maintaining anything anymore.

A fox had been coming through the yard at dusk. He'd seen it twice—lean, russet fur matted from urban living, one ear torn from some fight or another. It moved with that careful predatory grace, eyes fixed on something Marcus couldn't see. Last night it had left a dead bird on the patio, some offering he didn't understand.

He'd bought spinach at the grocery store yesterday, standing in the produce aisle for ten minutes while women pushed past with carts full of vegetables for families he'd never have. Elena had been the one who cooked. She'd made everything taste like something worth living for. Now the spinach sat wilting in his refrigerator, wrapped in plastic that promised freshness it couldn't deliver.

Their cat, Luna, had stopped eating after Elena left. Not dramatically—she just wandered the house howling at 3 AM, then refused her bowl. Marcus found her this morning behind the washing machine, something hollow about her eyes that scared him more than he wanted to admit.

"You're just a cat," he told her, but his voice cracked.

She blinked slowly, like she knew something he didn't.

The divorce papers sat on the kitchen counter. He'd signed them yesterday. Elena had already moved on—new apartment, new job, maybe someone new by now. She'd wanted children. He hadn't known what he wanted, only that whatever this was couldn't be it.

He skimmmed the pool, the net pulling up leaves and something small and dark that might have been a frog. The water reflected a version of himself he barely recognized—thirty-eight, alone, watching for foxes in suburban Connecticut while his ex-wife built a life elsewhere.

Luna appeared at the sliding glass door, watching him. Her food bowl sat empty inside.

"Fine," Marcus said, setting down the net. "We'll both eat."

He went inside, opened the can of cat food, and then pulled out the wilted spinach. He'd cook it with garlic and olive oil, the way Elena showed him once. He'd feed the cat. He'd sign and mail the papers tomorrow. He'd keep skimming the pool until it was clear again, or until he sold the house and moved somewhere smaller, somewhere foxes wouldn't remind him of how quickly something wild could disappear.

The fox watched from the edge of the woods as Marcus turned on the stove. Then it was gone, like something he'd almost imagined, like the life he thought he'd have by now.