Goldfish in a Zombie World

Maya's palm was sweating. Literally sweating. Inside it, the crinkly plastic bag held her dignity — one sad carnival **goldfish** named Kevin (she'd named him exactly three seconds ago, which was approximately three times his attention span).

"You gonna release him into the wild or what?" Tyler asked, leaning against the pool fence. Tyler with the perfect hair and the vintage sneakers and the way he made everything look effortless.

"I'm thinking," Maya said, which was a lie. She wasn't thinking. She was officially in **zombie** mode, that specific post-finals-week existence where your brain is cottage cheese and your soul has left your body to pursue a career as a decorative houseplant. She'd spent the last 72 hours doom-scrolling through other people's highlight reels while her own life remained aggressively un-highlighted.

"You look dead," Tyler said.

"Thanks. You too."

He laughed, and something in her chest did that embarrassing little flip thing. "Seriously though, that fish is living his best life in that bag. Meanwhile I've been to three parties this week and haven't had one real conversation."

Maya looked at Kevin the goldfish, swimming in his tiny plastic universe, doing laps, existing without performing. Just living.

"Maybe that's the goal," she said. "Just swim in circles and don't overthink it."

Tyler stepped closer. His hand brushed hers — the one holding Kevin's entire world. "Or you could, like, put him in the pond and come get food with me. Actual food. Not the sadness pizza from the cafeteria."

Maya looked at the pool, the party lights reflecting off the water like spilled glitter. At Kevin, whose three-second memory meant he'd forgotten he was even in a bag.

"Okay," she said. "But Kevin's coming too."

"Obviously." Tyler grinned. "I wouldn't want to miss the world's smallest road trip."

She released the goldfish into the pond and watched him disappear into the dark water, free and forgotten and absolutely fine. For the first time in weeks, her brain stopped buzzing. The zombie fog lifted, just a little.

"Your hand's empty now," Tyler said.

"Yeah," Maya said, and for once, she didn't overthink reaching back.