PROMPT

"The day in the life of a... goldfish!"

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Swimming.

Swimming.

Swimming.

The goldfish swam mindlessly in a circle in the small bowl on top of the cupboard. The vibrant orange scales shone in the sunlight illuminating the cluttered room.

Cardboard boxes were strewn across the floor at odd places and angles, creating an obstacle course for anyone trying to get into the room. Even the couch was piled high with an assortment of clothes on each seat. Some were thrown over the back of the pale green cushions.

The surroundings didn't matter to Goldie. All that mattered was the water, her fins fluttering as she swam. Ripples moved behind her with each swish and swash she made.

How long had Goldie been here? She couldn't remember. Each second was the same to her.

The door to the room was wide open, giving full view to the hallway beyond that lead to the front door. Bright greens, reds and yellows shone on the walls from a window, casting strange shapes onto a blank canvas. Goldie had full view of the even more cluttered floors in the corridor as she swam past.

Could she remember who brought her here? They came and went like a flitting memory, suddenly returning only when in line of sight. A silent 'ah!' would echo in the small mind Goldie was unlucky enough to have. If she were to have another life, she'd wish for a bigger brain like those who towered above to feed her.

Oh, how she loved dinner time!

They looked after her, thankfully. They were all so kind to take care of her when she couldn't take care of herself. She couldn't care that she was incapable of offering a simple thanks or do something for them. All she could do was survive.

As though on cue, a door slammed from somewhere in the hall. Goldie's bowl shuddered in response to the muffled sound that waded its way through the water to her.

"I told you that I am sorry!" someone screamed, the voice cracking to go slightly higher than they intended.

Goldie could remember the voice. However, she couldn't remember their face.

The voice was normally gentle, like the caress of a ripple of water on her tail-fin on a spring day. When she would hear it, she would get all flowery inside. She knew what would come next and it was normally food, except for the days she was forced out of her bowl to relocate into a temporary home whilst it was cleaned.

For the first time in her life, Goldie paused her swimming to wait for the noise to stop.

"No, you're not!" another voice chimed in. "Why would you do it if you were sorry?"

Goldie's owner sighed, her shadow on the wall clearly folding her arms over herself. "It wasn't my fault. He came on to me!" she tried to defend herself to no avail.

Her partner huffed. "You didn't have to reciprocate it!"

"What was I supposed to do?" Her arms on the shadow were flailing all over. "I froze and you didn't stop it! That guy is your friend!"

At the final word, a loud slap echoed through the hallway. A whimper. Heavy breathing. Sobbing. Then...

"Get out!" she said quietly, a tremor to the dangerous words unhidden from her partner and Goldie.

Goldie's small heart was beating quickly at the yelling. It broke at the command.

The door slammed again.

Unable to do anything else but watch, Goldie's eyes traced the shadow of her owner slide to the floor as she sobbed uncontrollably into her legs. She remained still in the bowl. Waiting. After however many minutes, her owner finally gained enough energy to stand up.

With each soft step, Goldie waited. She noted the large red mark on her face first, so unlike the resurfaced memory of the kind and smiling face she had come to love. The blotchy eyes, distant and vacant she noticed next. Her little heart broke a little more. Her owner clambered over boxes, reaching with a shaky hand towards the fish food. She poured some in for her and Goldie raced towards it mindlessly.

"At least, I have you," she whispered, her voice barely audible through the waves of water sloshing around Goldie.

If a goldfish could smile, Goldie would have. However, whilst she ate, she thought that she would settle with surviving and living.

For her.

For Leah.