What the Fox Knows

The vitamin D sat on her desk like a tiny yellow tombstone. Maya's doctor had prescribed them—'You're deficient,' he'd said, as if her entire life could be reduced to a chemical shortage.

She swallowed one with lukewarm coffee and logged onto her tenth Zoom of the day. Her webcam showed a woman who looked like Maya but moved like something animated by remote control. A zombie in sensible heels. Thirty-four years old and she'd already mastered the art of appearing alive while everything essential hollowed out inside.

Her boss was droning about synergy when she saw it through her home office window—a fox, impossibly bright against the gray London street, trotting past with something dead in its mouth. It stopped. Looked up at her with eyes that knew something she'd forgotten.

What? it seemed to say. What are you doing in there?

Maya's heart knocked against her ribs. She typed 'yes' and 'sounds great' and 'I'll circle back' while the fox watched, then turned and vanished into someone's garden. Wildness existed. Somewhere, things were still vivid and direct and unspeakably alive.

That evening, Eli came home. 'How was your day?' he asked, already knowing the answer.

'I saw a fox,' she said.

He paused, his keychain still in hand. 'At work?'

'Just... outside. It looked right at me.' She swallowed another vitamin. 'I think it was laughing at me.'

Eli's face softened in that way that used to make her fall in love with him, before they both became ghosts haunting their own marriage. 'Maybe it was inviting you somewhere.'

'Somewhere?'

'Out. Away. Anything but here.' He set his keys down. 'We could both use a little more fox in our lives.'

She looked at her husband—really looked at him—and saw the same exhaustion she felt. Two zombies in a tomb of their own making, stocked with vitamins and streaming subscriptions and every comfort money could buy.

'Yeah,' she said, reaching for his hand. His fingers were warm. 'Yeah, we could.'

The vitamins stayed on the desk. That night, they left the windows open, just a crack, as if something wild might find its way in.