Goldfish Memories Don't Die

Maya's phone buzzed for the third time in five minutes. Another text from Jordan about the party tonight. *u coming?? everyone's gonna be there*

She stared at her reflection in the glass tank instead. Inside, a tiny goldfish floated near the surface, its orange scales catching the afternoon light. "You're lucky," she whispered. "Nobody expects you to be anywhere."

"Talking to the fish again?" Her brother leaned against her doorframe, looking exhausted. Dark circles under his eyes suggested he'd been up all night gaming. Or something.

"He's a good listener," Maya said. "Better than certain people."

"Whatever. Just so you know, Mom and Dad are fighting again." He shrugged. "Classic zombie marriage, right? Just going through the motions, no soul left."

Maya's stomach twisted. The arguments had been getting worse lately — muffled shouting through thin walls, the way her mom now slept in the guest room. She'd started spending more time at school, the library, anywhere but home.

"I'm going out," she said suddenly, grabbing her backpack.

"To the party?" Her brother raised an eyebrow. "Jordan's been blowing up my phone too. Says you're ghosting everyone."

Maybe she was. Since starting freshman year, Maya had felt like she was underwater, watching everyone move in fast-forward while she struggled to remember who she was supposed to be. The perfect student. The good friend. The daughter who didn't hear her parents crying at night.

She ended up at the park instead, sitting on the swings as the sun set. That's when she saw him — a guy from her English class, running laps around the playground path. Same boy who always sat alone at lunch, reading books thicker than her forearm.

He stopped when he noticed her, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Hey."

"Hey." Maya stood, suddenly nervous. "You run a lot."

"Stress relief." He smiled crookedly. "My dad's been deployed three times. Running helps me... process."

They talked for an hour. About school, about her parents' fights, about how it felt like everyone expected them to have it figured out when most days they were just faking it.

"I'm Leo, by the way."

"Maya."

Her phone buzzed again. *party's lame anyway where r u??*

She turned it off.

"Want to keep walking?" Maya asked. "I think I need to get out of my head."

"Yeah." Leo fell into step beside her. "Me too."

Somewhere between the park and her street, Maya realized she hadn't thought about her parents once. For the first time in months, she wasn't underwater anymore.

The goldfish was still swimming when she got home, oblivious and unbothered. Maybe that was the secret — you didn't need to remember everything. You just needed to keep swimming.