Foo Fighter

I fell in love with a fish. It was an accident, I swear. He was in a plastic cup and so were the others but he stood out somehow. I drove him home whilst feeling so happy I thought I would burst. My happiness was an accident. I just wanted a fish. It would look pretty in a bowl. I could use seashells. Into our house I went and into the bowl went he. Lurching, swimmy fish in a pretty bowl. Yet bit by bit the hare became a turtle. Laying still at the bottom, fins drooped. He didn't eat for three days. I cried. That was definitely an accident. Who cries over a dumb fish? Stupid, silly girl. Just get another one! Instead I read and read. I warmed his water and he darted at me and ate his food. So I bought an aquarium. An accident. But he'll do better there. It keeps the temperature consistent, you know. He won't have that warming light glaring at him all day! Much more like his natural environment.

My thumb and finger pinch a submarined twist of fishy delight. He glares at me, paces the water. Deft lunge and snag, holds the snack like a drooped stub of cigar and swirls away.