What We Bear

The coaxial cable had been fraying for months,悬挂 between the utility pole and their third-story walkup like an unanswered question. Elena finally called someone about it the same week Maya stopped coming home.

Now the cable guy—soft-spoken, name of Dave—was in the bedroom, fishing new lines through the wall Elena had painted lavender during that brief, optimistic month when they'd first moved in. Together.

"You guys had a bear market, huh," Dave said, gesturing to the corkboard above Elena's desk. It was plastered with stock printouts, red ink like wounds, annotations in Maya's precise handwriting. Elena's own handwriting—a frantic scrawl—covered the margins later. Then nothing after October.

"Something like that," Elena said.

She'd been running every morning since Maya left. Not from anything in particular. Just running. Five miles along the waterfront, past the shuttered restaurants and condos with lights on in the middle of the day. People who still had things to lose.

Maya had been Elena's oldest friend. The kind of friend who knew exactly how to hurt you because they'd seen every version of you that existed. The kind you could bear almost anything from—debt, infidelity, failure—except the decision to stop choosing you, day after day, until one day you wake up and realize they haven't chosen you in years.

"All done," Dave said, packing his tools. "Signal's good now. You should check it."

Elena turned on the TV. Static gave way to clear picture—a cooking show, some woman making bouillabaisse with the desperate cheer of someone pretending everything hadn't already fallen apart.

"Thanks," Elena said, and closed the door behind him.

She stood in the center of the living room, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes and the lavender wall that now seemed like a cruel joke. Outside, Seattle gray pressed against the windows. The cable was fixed. The signal was clear. Everything worked now.

Everything except the one thing that mattered.

Elena laced up her running shoes. She'd go five miles today. Maybe six. Maybe she'd just keep running until the questions stopped finding her.