What We Feed

Maya watched the goldfish circle its bowl, orange scales catching the fluorescent office lights. Three years of watching this creature survive in its own waste, and she still envied it. The fish swam in one continuous motion, never having to justify its existence in quarterly performance reviews.

"You're staring at it again," said Colin from the neighboring cubicle, his dog-eared spreadsheet thick with margin notes. His hair had gone salt-and-pepper since the divorce—or maybe since the third round of layoffs. She couldn't remember which came first.

"It's peaceful," Maya said, not taking her eyes off the fish. "No expectations. No projections. Just swimming."

Colin laughed, that dry rusty sound that had become characteristic. "You sound like you're planning something."

She wasn't, not exactly. But she'd been dreaming of her sister's farm—the fox that raided the henhouse at dawn, the cat that caught field mice and left them on the porch like offerings. There was a brutal honesty there. The fox didn't apologize for being hungry. The cat didn't pretend to hunt for sport. They just *were*.

"Remember when you started?" Colin asked, genuinely curious. "You said you wanted to change how people think about sustainability. That we'd make a difference."

Maya did remember. She remembered believing it, too.

"Now look at us," she said softly. "We're what we feed."

The goldfish rose to the surface, mouth opening and closing in silent repetition. Maya imagined its bowl expanding, the walls dissolving until the fish discovered oceans. She imagined herself dissolving too—walking out of the cubicle, past security, into a world where hunger wasn't shameful and survival wasn't negotiated.

"Colin," she said, turning finally to look at him. "What if we stopped swimming in circles?"

He met her eyes, and for a moment, something ancient flickered behind his tired expression. The memory of teeth and fur, of being something that wasn't merely fed.

"What then," he asked, "when we discover the ocean's too big?"

Maya smiled, already standing. "Then we learn to drown beautifully."