Electric Fish

The spinach sat wilting on their plates, untouched, as the lightning strike illuminated the kitchen in sudden, violent white. Sarah didn't flinch. She hadn't looked at him since he'd walked through the door forty minutes late, smelling of whiskey and someone else's perfume.

"You forgot to feed the goldfish again," she said, not looking up from her cold dinner.

Marcus followed her gaze to the bowl on the counter. The orange fish floated near the surface, mouth opening and closing in that silent, desperate way fish had of screaming for sustenance. He'd bought it on a whim three years ago at a carnival, won it by knocking over milk bottles with a baseball. He'd been so proud that day, his arm around Sarah's waist, both of them younger and stupid enough to believe winning a goldfish meant something.

"I'll do it."

"Don't bother." Sarah stood, her chair scraping against the floor. Another flash of lightning, and Marcus could see the streak of tears cutting through her makeup. "You'll be dead to it by morning anyway."

"Sarah—"

"Baseball's on," she said, nodding toward the living room where the television murmured. "Your team's losing. Go watch."

He stayed in the kitchen doorway, watching her. She'd lost weight. Her clothes hung loose. When had that happened? How many nights had he come home late, how many dinners had she eaten alone in this kitchen with only a carnival goldfish for company?

The third lightning strike of the evening cracked through the sky, and this time the lights flickered and died. They stood in darkness, and somewhere in the silence, the goldfish broke the surface, gasping.

Marcus realized then what he hadn't allowed himself to know: he wasn't losing her. He'd already lost her, somewhere between the whiskey and the other woman's perfume, somewhere between all the nights he'd chosen anything but being here. She was already gone.

He crossed the kitchen in the dark and found the fish food on the counter. He sprinkled flakes into the bowl and watched the fish eat, each small mouthful another moment he didn't deserve.

"You're still here," he said to the darkness.

"Not for long," Sarah answered from the other room. "Not for long."