Three Seconds

The goldfish had outlived them all. Jason's cancer, Sarah's marriage, my own ambition — all gone, while Henrietta continued her lazy circuits in the bowl, her orange scales catching the morning light like tiny flames.

"She's got better recall than you do," Marcus said, pouring whiskey into two coffee mugs. We were sitting in what used to be Jason's studio. The storm outside made the artwork pulse with each lightning flash. "That's the third time you've asked about the promotion."

"The position went to Reynolds." I swirled the whiskey. "He's got the temperament of a bull and the leadership skills of one, but he plays golf with the right people."

Marcus laughed, but it was hollow. We'd been friends since college, but somewhere along the way, friendship had curdled into mutual toleration. We were witnesses to each other's decline, convenient mirrors for regret.

"You know what they say about goldfish," I continued. "Three-second memory. Every loop is fresh discovery. Imagine that."

"Imagine what?"

"Waking up every moment without history. No accumulation of failure. No inventory of disappointments. Just... now."

Lightning shattered the darkness, the thunder following so close it vibrated in my chest. In that white flash, I saw Marcus clearly — the gray spreading through his beard, the lines around his eyes, the way he held himself like he was protecting something vital.

"I'm leaving," he said.

"The storm?"

"New York. My sister needs help with the restaurant in Portland."

The words hung between us, illuminated by another flash. I looked at Henrietta, suspended in her endless present, unaware of the passages she swam through, unaware that the boy who'd bought her at a carnival had died two years ago.

"When?"

"Next week."

I wanted to ask him to take me. I wanted to say that I'd grown tired of my own loops, that my memory was longer than three seconds but had somehow accomplished less. Instead, I said, "Take the fish."

"What?"

"Henrietta. She deserves more than this. She deserves someone who remembers."

Marcus looked at the bowl, then at me, and I saw him truly see me for the first time in years.

"Yeah," he said. "Okay."

Outside, the rain began to fall, washing everything away.