Goldfish in a Storm

Marcus stared at his **goldfish**, Bubbles, who'd been swimming in the same furious circles for three years. The fish didn't judge. The fish didn't ask why Marcus still sat alone at lunch, why his Instagram posts got three likes max, or why he couldn't figure out who he was supposed to be.

"You're lucky, man," Marcus muttered, dropping a pinch of food into the bowl. "Nobody expects goldfish to be iconic."

His phone buzzed. Another wellness influencer mom had sent him a link about **vitamin** D deficiency in teenagers who spend too much inside. He rolled his eyes so hard it actually hurt. The house already smelled like the gummy vitamins she'd ordered bulk from Amazon—sour orange chaos that cluttered the kitchen counter like some desperate plea for optimal functioning.

Marcus grabbed his beat-up **hat** before heading out, pulling the brim low. It was his armor, his "don't perceive me" forcefield. Jackson's party was tonight, and he'd promised himself he'd actually go this time. No more ghosting.

Outside, the sky bruised purple. Weather app said storms, but Marcus kept walking. He needed this, whatever this was—to exist somewhere other than his room, to not be the kid who talked to fish.

Then it happened—**lightning** cracked the sky open, sudden and blinding, like the universe deciding to photobomb his lame origin story. Rain dumped down in sheets, soaking through his hoodie instantly. His hat surrendered to the wind.

Marcus ran anyway, breathless and drenched, hair plastered to his forehead. He arrived at Jackson's looking like a disaster, and for the first time in forever, he didn't care. Something about the chaos, the sheer un-curated mess of it, felt liberating.

Jackson opened the door, took one look at him, and started laughing. But not mean laughing—real laughing. The contagious kind.

"Dude," Jackson said. "You look like you survived a shipwreck. Get in here."

Marcus stepped inside, dripping and grinning, and realized nobody was watching him as hard as he'd been watching himself. The goldfish would be proud.