The Goldfish Operation

I hover over Maya's profile, my thumb frozen. My parents assume I'm grinding through homework behind my closed door. Instead, I'm indulging in some low-level social media reconnaissance like a total **spy**.

It's giving creepy energy. I'm basically that neighborhood **cat** who lurks behind blinds — hyper-observant, ready to bolt, never brave enough to actually approach. I've memorized her Spotify playlists, her TV show preferences, her coffee order. Classic obsessed behavior.

Jordan FaceTimes before I can spiral deeper. "Bro, you're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"That thing where you overanalyze her posts like you're decoding government secrets."

I squirm against my pillows. "I'm just observant."

"You're being weird." Jordan's not wrong. Maya chose to sit near me at lunch yesterday and I basically froze like someone had pressed pause on my brain. My face burned. My thoughts went static.

**Bull**, I'd told myself later. She doesn't like me. She probably just needed a seat.

"You need to actually talk to her," Jordan insists. "Stop lurking."

"Easier said than done."

"You're thinking too much. You're like a **goldfish** — same anxious loop, over and over, every three seconds." Jordan gestures with their coffee mug. "Just say hey. Ask about her weekend. Keep it casual."

Casual. Right.

But Maya's not casual. She's intense in the best way. Last week she spent ten minutes explaining the correct way to fold a fitted sheet, and I sat there listening like she was revealing the secrets of the universe. Her hands moved all animated, her eyes got this focused brightness. And I sat there feeling like the most boring person alive, unable to form complete sentences.

My phone buzzes. Instagram notification: Maya posted a story.

It's her reading on her front porch, her actual cat sleeping across her open textbook. CAPTION: "when your cat decides your homework is basically a pillow"

I laugh before I can stop myself. It's awkward and real and suddenly the terrifying Maya in my head feels like just... a person. A regular, slightly weird person who posts about her cat and might actually like a guy who's also kind of awkward.

My heart races as I type: "that looks like an effective study strategy"

Send.

My thumb hovers over unsend for exactly two seconds.

Then: heart-eyes reaction from Maya.

Maybe goldfish have it right. Keep swimming. Don't overthink. Just do the thing.