Goldfish Husband

Goldfish Husband

By Jaden Martens

          “It has to be him,” Danny muttered. She’d been standing in the back of the PetSmart for about an hour now, plastered in old makeup and soaked in a sweat-stained cardigan. The baggy-eyed cashier worker had come to check on her half an hour ago, she’d insisted she was fine—she was fine—and he’d left her alone since. 

          “I mean it must be.” What am I even saying? “I don’t know; it just looks so like–like him.” It’s a goldfish. “Well, yeah, but, I mean, look at him.” The goldfish—her husband—was a smooth brown interrupted only by little red marks around his mouth and eyes. A spitting image of how he had looked when he was human. Are you even listening to yourself?

          “No.” Just leave, it’s getting late. She didn’t move. It was her husband. She was sure of it. “We’re getting it.” Again, she didn’t move. Look, I’ll just get it, I don’t even care anymore. “Okay.” She bought the goldfish and kept it cradled in her hands, feeling it wriggle against her fingers. How lovely it was to feel his skin against hers again. With her eyes fixated on her beloved, she walked out the store.

          And was run over.