Home for a Fish

by

Phillip McCollum

It was small, yellow, and swimming tiny circles inside a discarded tin of SPAM.

“Oh, Larry. You know I’ll take most anything from you, no questions asked, but gimme a break here. You’re taking this to a whole other level.”

Larry hunched over the opposite side of the glass counter. Zora could hear his hands digging around the pockets of his grease-stained raincoat as he pulled out a handkerchief. He blew his nose. It sounded like a tanker coming into port through a thick fog. They both looked down and studied the overactive goldfish.

“He’s special,” Larry said. “Real good luck. I wanted you to have him before I go. Give him a good home.”

Zora ignored the fish for a second and locked eyes on his dirty face.

—

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