Goldfish Memories Don't Fade

The pool party felt like a scene from a movie I hadn't auditioned for. I stood by the snack table, feeling like a **zombie** trapped in someone else's Instagram feed. Three weeks after Kai dumped me via Snapchat, and I was still moving through life on autopilot.

"Hey, Earth to Maya," Jordan said, waving a hand in my face. "You've been staring at that **papaya** like it personally offended you."

I blinked. "My mom's obsessed with them lately. Says they're 'superfoods.' I think she's trying to compensate for dad leaving."

Jordan's expression softened. "That's rough, honestly. My parents are doing this whole 'conscious uncoupling' thing and it's weirdly worse than if they just hated each other."

We ended up on the pool's edge, legs dangling in the water. Something about Jordan's vibe—those oversized clothes, the way they didn't perform anything—made me feel less alone.

"Weird confession," Jordan said. "I still think about my childhood **goldfish**. Bubbles. He lived for five years, which is like, a century in goldfish years. When he died, I cried for a week. My little brother was like, 'it's just a fish,' but it wasn't. He was the only one who listened to me without interrupting."

"Same," I said, surprised. "I had this betta fish, Crimson. I'd literally tell him everything. One day I came home and he was just... floating. My mom flushed him before I got to say goodbye. I still feel guilty about that."

Jordan's eyes met mine. "Maybe that's why we're all messed up. We're taught that grief should have an expiration date. Like, sorry your fish died, get over it, what's for dinner?"

"Exactly," I said, feeling something shift in my chest. "Like, I'm not allowed to still be hurt about Kai because it's been three weeks and everyone's like 'there's other fish in the sea'—"

"Don't say it," Jordan groaned.

"—but that's not the point. The point is I liked HIM, not some random replacement."

Jordan nodded slowly. "You know what helps? Not that this fixes anything, but... sometimes I go **swimming** at the Y at like, 6 AM when nobody's there. Just me and the water. No phone, no expectations. It's the only time my brain shuts up."

"That sounds... actually amazing?"

"You should come. Tomorrow. I mean, if you want."

I looked at Jordan—really looked. And for the first time since Kai's Snapchat message, I didn't feel dead inside. I felt something else. Something like possibility.

"Yeah," I said. "I think I'd like that."