Dead Goldfish Walking

My Friday nights usually involved Netflix and overthinking every social interaction I'd had all week. But tonight? Tonight I was at Jessica Harper's party because my best friend Maya dragged me there, claiming I needed to "get out of my shell before I fossilized."

"I'll be right back," Maya said, abandoning me near the snack table.

I stared at the punch bowl like it held the secrets of the universe. Around me, people were actually having fun. Laughing. Dancing. Existing without feeling like they were constantly being evaluated by invisible judges.

My phone battery was at 7%. I'd forgotten my charging **cable** at home, because apparently I was incapable of adulting.

"So, how's Bubbles?"

I jumped. Finn Collins was leaning against the wall next to me, all messy dark hair and easy confidence. We'd been in bio together since September, and I'd definitely spent too much time staring at the back of his neck during lab.

"What?"

"Your **goldfish**," Finn said, like this was normal conversation. "The one you posted about on your finsta last week. He looked like he was living his best life in that castle thing."

My face burned. "Bubbles died two days ago."

Finn's expression actually crumbled. "No. Seriously? That's devastating. I was emotionally invested in his journey."

"He was three years old," I said, feeling weirdly defensive of my fish's legacy. "He lived a full life."

"A legend," Finn agreed solemnly. "What happened?"

"I think he just... gave up. Sometimes I relate."

Finn laughed, and it was this warm, genuine sound that made my stomach do something suspicious. "I feel that. Sometimes I look around at parties like this and wonder if we're all just **zombie**s moving through the motions, you know? Like, everyone's pretending to have the time of their lives but internally they're just scrolling through their mental to-do lists and panicking about how they look on Instagram."

I stared at him. "That's... exactly how I feel."

"Right?" Finn shifted closer, his shoulder brushing against mine. "You're always so quiet in bio, I figured you were just observing us like we're a nature documentary."

"Pretty much," I admitted. "Also, I forgot my cable and my phone's about to die, so I can't even doomscroll to avoid social interaction."

Finn reached into his pocket and pulled out a portable charger. "I got you. Being socially prepared is my brand."

As my phone charged, we spent the next hour talking about everything from goldfish funerals to how we were both failing pre-calc to why parties felt like performance art. Finn was funny and weird and didn't make me feel like I was saying everything wrong.

When Maya finally reappeared, Finn stood up. "Hey, want to get out of here? There's this 24-hour diner that makes incredible milkshakes, and I'd rather hear more about Bubbles' legendary life than pretend to enjoy this party."

"Yes," I said immediately. "Absolutely."

Later, over two chocolate milkshakes, I realized something: sometimes the best moments happen when you're not looking for them. Bubbles would be proud.