What We Keep

She found herself running again at 5 AM, the pavement hard under her sneakers, the dark Seattle streets empty. Three miles in, her phone buzzed—him, asking if she'd fed the dog. She didn't answer.

Back home, the goldfish bowl sat on the kitchen counter, its filter humming in the silence. They'd won it at a carnival five years ago, laughing and drunk, and now it swam in endless circles, forgotten like everything else between them. She dropped a flake of food into the water and watched it surface.

The spinach salad she'd made for dinner last night sat wilting on the counter, its green leaves turning brown at the edges. They used to cook together on Sundays, him chopping while she stirred, wine glasses staining the counter. Now the kitchen felt like a museum exhibit of a marriage that had already ended.

Barnaby—that was the dog's name—lay in his bed by the window, his golden retriever fur matted with sleep. He was supposed to be *their* dog, but he'd become hers alone. She scratched behind his ears and he groaned, stretching his legs toward her. The dog knew something was wrong. Animals always did.

The light coming through the blinds was orange now, dawn giving way to morning. Her wedding dress had been orange—not white, but the color of a sunset, bold and unapologetic. She'd worn it to surprise him, to prove she wasn't like other women. That was ten years ago.

His key in the lock. She didn't turn around. The sound of his briefcase hitting the floor, the refrigerator opening, the familiar weight of him in the room she couldn't stop herself from loving.

"You're up early," he said, his voice rough with sleep.

She looked at the goldfish, at the dying spinach, at the dog who had become her only real companion. "Couldn't sleep."

"Me neither." He stepped closer. "About last night—"

"Don't."

The orange light deepened, the sun finally breaking through. Some mornings she thought about leaving. This wasn't one of them. Some mornings she just watched the fish swim in its endless circles and wondered how long she'd keep doing the same.