Just like
always when I walk into my bedroom, my little fish friend is there waiting for
me, swimming around in his tank. Just like always, it makes me smile to see him.
“I’m glad I’ve got you.”
He swims closer to where I settle, on a plush chair near his tank. “You’re a good friend. You’re always here for me.” I shift my gaze to look from one side of his tank to the other. “Not that you have much of a choice.” I can’t help chuckling. Once the laughter dissipates, I shrug. “But you are still here. That’s more than I can say for many.” My breath is hot as it falls from my mouth. I blink at the prickle in my eyes. I know there are tears there, but I also know that that's where they'll stay. I can't ever seem to make them fall.
I refocus my
gaze on my little fish friend, who has been watching me this whole time. He
blinks back at me.
“I suppose that you can't really cry either, can you?”
He opens and closes his mouth a few times, though only bubbles escape.
I watch as they float upwards, toward the surface.
“I wish I could speak fish, so I could understand what you're trying to tell me right now.” My breath catches in my throat as I go to inhale.
“But it's
worse for you, huh?” I say after a while, leaning closer to where he bobs in place.
“You can't cry, but you don't have a voice either.” I touch my fingers slightly
to my throat, feeling the lump that's starting to form there, about the same
place my breath caught. It's painfully rock hard. “Sometimes, I lose my voice
too.”
My little fish friend’s big eyes are steady on me as I talk.
“Usually in the worst times when I need my voice the most is when it escapes me, and I just clam up. It’s like my mind is a tank that I'm trapped in…” I stop, allowing my eyes to wonder once again over his tank. “Sorry. That was a bad analogy.” I let out a long, hot breath. “But that's the thing. You get me. In a way that no one else seems to, you understand.” My smile returns and grows a little bigger as I look at him, still next to me. Or as close as he can get. “I’m glad I've got you, my little fish friend.”
He swims closer to where I settle, on a plush chair near his tank. “You’re a good friend. You’re always here for me.” I shift my gaze to look from one side of his tank to the other. “Not that you have much of a choice.” I can’t help chuckling. Once the laughter dissipates, I shrug. “But you are still here. That’s more than I can say for many.” My breath is hot as it falls from my mouth. I blink at the prickle in my eyes. I know there are tears there, but I also know that that's where they'll stay. I can't ever seem to make them fall.
“I suppose that you can't really cry either, can you?”
He opens and closes his mouth a few times, though only bubbles escape.
I watch as they float upwards, toward the surface.
“I wish I could speak fish, so I could understand what you're trying to tell me right now.” My breath catches in my throat as I go to inhale.
My little fish friend’s big eyes are steady on me as I talk.
“Usually in the worst times when I need my voice the most is when it escapes me, and I just clam up. It’s like my mind is a tank that I'm trapped in…” I stop, allowing my eyes to wonder once again over his tank. “Sorry. That was a bad analogy.” I let out a long, hot breath. “But that's the thing. You get me. In a way that no one else seems to, you understand.” My smile returns and grows a little bigger as I look at him, still next to me. Or as close as he can get. “I’m glad I've got you, my little fish friend.”
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