Zombies Don't Play Padel

I was basically a zombie, operating on three hours of sleep and pure anxiety. My goldfish, Finbar, was doing this weird floating thing—alternating between the top and bottom of his bowl like he was reconsidering his life choices.

"You good, bro?" Marcus asked, spinning a baseball on his finger.

"Never better," I lied. We were at the community center where Sarah played padel every Tuesday. I'd been strategically timing my walks past the court for three weeks like a total creep.

Today was different. Today I was going to actually talk to her.

"You're taking the bull by the horns," Marcus nodded approvingly. "Finally."

But then I saw her. Sarah was sitting on a bench outside the padel court, her racket beside her, crying. Not cute crying. Real crying.

My brain short-circuited. Every coming-of-age movie I'd ever watched screamed at me to walk over, to comfort her, to be the kind of guy who says the perfect thing.

Instead I froze.

She looked up, eyes red. I froze harder. I was literally two feet away, still wearing my backpack, probably looking like I was about to ask for homework answers.

"Hey," she sniffed. "You're that guy."

"Yeah," I said brilliantly. "That guy."

Then something possessed me—maybe the zombie delirium, maybe pure desperation. "So... padel?"

She laughed. A real one. "You sound ridiculous."

"I know," I said. "My goldfish is dying, I haven't slept since Saturday, and I really wanted to meet you but now you're crying and I'm awkwardly just standing here."

She wiped her eyes. "Finbar?"

"What?"

"Your goldfish. His name is Finbar?"

"Yeah."

"I had a goldfish named Finbar," she said. "He lived for five years."

"He's not dead yet," I rushed to clarify. "Just... contemplative."

She smiled. It was different from her smiles at school. Realer. "Wanna sit?"

We sat. We talked about goldfish and padel and why she was crying (she lost her match, but it was deeper than that). We talked until the sun went down.

Finbar was still floating vertically when I got home. But somehow, everything felt different.

Some zombies don't just need sleep. Sometimes they just need to take the bull by the horns and sit on a bench next to a crying girl who once had a goldfish named Finbar too.