The Last Goldfish

Marcus stared at the orange capsule in his palm—a vitamin D supplement Sarah had bought him three months ago, before she walked out with the clothes on her back and nothing else. The expiration date stamped on the bottle was still two years away. His own expiration, he'd discovered yesterday at the doctor's office, was considerably more imminent.

The goldfish in the cracked bowl on his windowscreen swam its endless laps, oblivious to the tumor pressing against Marcus's pancreas. Sarah had won it at a carnival two years ago, some drunken night where they'd both laughed too loud and kissed too messily in public. She'd wanted to flush it a dozen times since then. Marcus had always refused, though he couldn't say why.

Outside, lightning forked across the bruised-purple sky, illuminating the apartment he could no longer afford alone. The storm had been forecast for days, much like the collapse of his marriage, much like the failure of the bookstore he'd poured his savings into. Some disasters you saw coming from miles away. You just stood there, watching them approach, unable to move.

His phone buzzed. Sarah's name lit up the screen.

"Did you hear?" she asked without greeting. "Your mother called me. About the biopsy."

Marcus watched the goldfish break the water's surface, its mouth opening and closing in silent repetition. "News travels fast."

"I'm coming over."

"Don't."

"Marcus."

"I gave you the goldfish, Sarah. You never wanted it. Take it."

Lightning struck closer this time, and the apartment went dark before the emergency lights flickered on. In the sudden illumination, the fish's orange scales seemed to glow, its tail beating against the glass confinement.

"We're not talking about the fish," she said softly. "We're talking about you not letting anyone take care of you, even now. Even when you're scared."

Marcus swallowed the vitamin without water. "I'm not scared. I'm just—tired."

"I know," she said. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

The line went dead. Marcus watched the goldfish complete another circuit, wondering if the fish even knew it was swimming in circles, or if it simply found comfort in the familiar path.