The Little Fish Beside Me

Sam looks at me with such severity whenever I arrive in the morning. His cheeks puff up with arms outstretched as if ready to attack me if I got nearer.  Have I awakened him from his dream again?  Does he hate or appreciate my presence?  I wonder whether he had enough to eat.    I wonder what he did last night. Does he sleep? His little world seems big enough but he has the same set of furniture that he can’t even move around except perhaps for the pink object that remotely resembles a sea urchin. I wonder what his mother was thinking of when she put that there.   It hardly complements the glassy stones nor his color.

Is Sam lonely where he is?  There is no one else but him and I.  He does not like to be touched but he sits on the side nearer to me.  How beautiful he is in all his fiery attire.  He puts me to shame with his long silky tresses though it is a pity that he has a permanent pout. Considering his size, I am glad he isn’t any bigger.  Otherwise, his might have been able to take a tiny portion of my index fingertip.  I suppose he would still be appealing to somebody.  However, there is nobody because his mother thinks he would just kill anyone she chooses for him.  Sam could be capable but would he really do it? Would he choose companionship over his conditioning? Perhaps he might not be as lonely as I think he is.  I cannot be alone.  I cannot be lonely.  At least, I like to think that Sam enjoys this staring game between us.

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