What We Carry Home

The pyramid hotel rose against the Palm Springs sunset like some ancient monument to capitalism, its glass facets reflecting orange and pink as if apologizing for its own existence. Elena sat by the pool, watching the water ripple in the artificial wind, nursing her third club soda and contemplating the pyramid scheme that was her career: middle management selling dreams to younger versions of herself, each level convinced they'd reach the top.

She'd swum laps earlier—sixty lengths of futile motion against the chlorine resistance—trying to outpace the memory of David's voice saying I just don't think we're growing in the same direction anymore. Growing. The word had settled in her chest like something caught between teeth, something she couldn't tongue out without drawing attention to it.

"You've got spinach," someone said.

Elena started. A man stood beside her chaise, maybe thirty-five, with eyes that suggested he'd also spent too many hours interrogating his own reflection. "Between your teeth. Left side."

She ran her tongue, found the offending green shred. Humiliation warmed her cheeks. "Thanks."

"It happens." He gestured to the empty chair. "May I?"

"Be my guest."

They sat in silence as the sky purpled. A cat—silvery and sleek, with the imperious posture of creatures who know they don't answer to anyone—hopped onto the table between them, tail curling around its paws. It regarded them with liquid assessment.

"That's," the man said, "either an omen or dinner."

"I'm leaning toward omen."

"Marcus." He extended his hand. "Here for the leadership summit. Learning to scale pyramids."

"Elena. Also here for the summit. Also climbing pyramids. We're literally in a pyramid-shaped hotel discussing metaphorical pyramids while a cat judges us."

Marcus laughed. It surprised them both.

"You know what's funny?" he said. "I keep thinking about spinach. How it's supposed to make you strong, but really it just gets stuck in your teeth. All the things that are supposed to be good for you—exercise, advancement, optimization—they're just awkward embarrassments waiting to happen."

Elena looked at the pyramid hotel, its lights flickering on like stars fallen to earth. "I think about swimming. How you can move through water your whole life and still feel like you're drowning."

The cat purred, a small rumble of indifference.

"Let me buy you a drink," Marcus said. "Something with alcohol this time. We can discuss how to overthrow pyramid schemes from the inside."

Elena smiled, and for the first time in months, something in her chest unclenched. "I'd like that."

The cat closed its eyes, satisfied with this development, and the desert night settled around them, vast and forgiving and filled with possibilities they'd forgotten existed.