Jerric pressed his nose to the tank. Long, elegant, colorful fins trailed behind like streamers in a gentle breeze. He watched them for a moment, then stepped back and glanced at the price tag stuck to the glass.

“It’s a fucking fish,” he muttered under his breath. He turned away from the tank and moved down the aisle, passing various other tanks with other brightly colored fish.

“Anything I can help you with?”

Jerric paused and turned to the employee. “What happened to plain old goldfish?” he said loudly.

The store employee blinked at him for a moment. “Uh,” he started. “We have some of those.” He pointed to the tank at the end of the aisle. 

Jerric sighed and stepped around him, moving to the tank the employee indicated. He stared through the glass, watching the brainless goldfish swim in circles. After a moment, he got the strange sense he was being watched, and he peered over his shoulder. He was alone in the aisle. He turned back to the tank, only noticing then the odd little goldfish that had stopped swimming and was seemingly staring at him.

Jerric’s gaze narrowed and he stared back for a moment, then sighed. “I’m having a staring contest with a fish,” he said under his breath. “This is where my life is at these days.”

The fish moved side to side, as if wagging its tail.

“You’re a weird dude,” Jerric said.

“Do you… want the goldfish?”

Jerric turned to see the employee, watching him hesitantly. He pressed a finger to the glass. “That one.”

The employee hesitated. “That one?” he asked. “I can’t just… grab any dumb fish?”

Jerric sneered at him. “No,” he said slowly. “I want the stupid one that’s staring at me.”

The employee shrugged, then moved to the side of the tank, retrieving a net. He stood on his tip toes as he reached into the tank, and to both of their surprise, the fish remained still as he scooped him into the net. He dropped the fish into a bag of water, sealed it, then handed it to Jerric.

“What is it? Fifty cents?”

The employee sighed. “Dude, just take it, I don’t even care.”

Jerric grinned. He held the bag up to his face. “I’ll call him… Fin.” His lips pursed.

“I don’t care,” he said. “I’m on break and I’m gonna get high.” Without another word, he turned and left Jerric alone.

“That’s a dumb name,” Jerric muttered to himself. “Gill?” He grinned suddenly. “Sir Swims A lot. Swim Shady!”

Jerric looked around, but no one else seemed to occupy the store. He strode out the door, goldfish in hand, and out into the parking lot. He slipped into his car, plopping the goldfish down on the seat beside him, and drove home.

He fumbled with the lock to his apartment, then stepped inside, dropping his keys on the nearby table.  He held up the bag with the fish, examining it.

“Welcome home, Mister Shady,” he said. “It’s not much, but it’s somewhere to crash after a twelve-hour shift.” He placed the bag on the table, then moved to the fridge. “Listen up, Swim; if there’s a sock on the doorknob, that means I got a lady friend, so please do not disturb, alright?” He pulled out a frozen burrito, then dropped it into the microwave. He tapped the numbers on the pad, then turned around in the kitchen. He grabbed an empty glass bowl, filled it with water, placed it on the counter, then dropped the goldfish inside.

Swim swam around, seemingly getting acclimated with his new space, then turned to stare at Jerric once more.

“You’re weird,” Jerric muttered. “I give you three days before I see you belly up.” He sighed, then straightened. He dropped a few flakes of fish food in the bowl, then stepped out of the kitchen and dropped onto his bed. He turned his head to the side, staring at the tv, then stretched for the remote, clicking the tv on. He reached for the bowl on his nightstand, packed it with the contents in a small baggie, then flicked a lighter. After a few minutes, he was snoring on the bed.