What the Cat Knew

Maria lay by the pool at the Sunset Motor Inn, the water an impossible shade of orange from the dying light. The television flickered behind her—some show she wasn't watching, the cable connection loose, cutting out every few minutes. Static suited her mood better than dialogue anyway.

She'd come here to tell him it was over. Six months of meetings in cheap rooms, of texting during dinner with her husband, of becoming someone she didn't recognize. And now Richard was gone, back to his wife, back to whatever life he claimed he hated. Maria should leave too. Drive home. Feed the cat.

But she couldn't move.

Her hair, usually so controlled, was fraying at the temples. Gray had started coming in at thirty-nine, subtle threads of silver she'd taken to plucking in secret until Richard had traced them with his thumb and said they made her look real. Whatever that meant. Real people didn't do things like this. Real people didn't destroy homes and call it love.

The pool's surface rippled in the wind. She imagined slipping under, letting the chlorinated water fill her lungs, becoming something still and silent. Not dying. Just stopping.

Her phone buzzed on the plastic table. *Home.* The cat must be knocking things over again—Buster always sensed when something was wrong, had been yowling at the door since she packed her suitcase. Animals knew. They smelled the rot before you saw it on your own skin.

Maria thought of Richard's hands, how they'd felt just hours ago. How he'd cried and said he loved her, how that word had sounded like a curse. She thought of her husband Mark, probably making dinner, probably wondering why she wasn't answering. He never asked where she went on these "business trips." Maybe he knew too.

The orange light deepened to bruised purple. Cable TV sputtered and died, leaving her with her reflection in the darkened window. A stranger looked back.

She stood slowly, bones aching, and gathered her things. The cat needed feeding. Mark needed whatever lie she'd prepared. The pool would be here tomorrow, and the next poor soul looking to drown.

She drove home through the dark and let Buster twine around her legs, purring like nothing had changed. Maria scratched behind his ears and pretended she believed him.