The Goldfish Bowl

Mara found him standing at the kitchen counter at 3 AM, watching the goldfish swim endless circles in its bowl. The water glowed with a sickly blue light from the filter, casting shadows across David's face.

"Can't sleep?" she asked, though she already knew. Neither of them could anymore.

"He's been doing that for seven years," David said, not turning around. "Just swimming. Same pattern, over and over."

Mara wrapped her silk robe tighter around herself. The robe David had given her for their tenth anniversary, before everything fell apart. "Goldfish don't live that long, David. We've had three different ones."

He finally turned, and his eyes were hollow. "What's the difference? They all look the same. They all do the same thing."

Outside, something moved in the garden. A fox, sleek and rust-colored, paused beneath their bedroom window. Mara watched it through the glass, this wild thing that had wandered into their manicured subdivision. The fox looked directly at her, eyes bright and knowing, before slipping away into the darkness.

She'd seen it three times this week. Always watching. Always leaving.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," David said.

Mara's stomach dropped, though she'd known this was coming. They'd been swimming in separate directions for years now, two fish in the same bowl, neither noticing the other's patterns. "For how long?"

"For good."

The goldfish rose to the surface, mouth opening and closing in silent bubbles. Mara remembered the day David brought the first one home, how he'd laughed when they'd discussed names, how they'd ended up calling every subsequent fish the same name. Goldfish. Like they couldn't be bothered to distinguish one from the next.

Like they'd stopped bothering to distinguish the moments of their life from each other.

"I saw the fox again," she said, because she couldn't think of anything else to say. "In the garden."

David nodded, like this made sense. "Wild things can only stay in captivity so long. Then they have to go back to being what they are."

He turned off the kitchen light, plunging them into darkness. The blue glow from the fishbowl remained, illuminating his silhouette as he walked toward the stairs.

Mara stood there alone, watching the goldfish swim its endless circles, and wondered who would remember to feed it once they were both gone.