This fish resides in a vase with a plant on a counter in an office I frequent.

It’s a solitary life and I always wonder how happy the fish is to be in such a small space with strangers coming and going all day. I remarked on this to the secretary and she frowned.

She said that there had actually been another fish and someone added this one to the vase. This fish, the newcomer, attacked the first one. I won’t tell more than that but the first little fish didn’t make it.

When I heard this story, I slowly pulled away my index finger from the side of the vase and inched down the counter. The sweet solitary fish suddenly reminded me of Hannibal Lecter.

Poor little dead fish! Nature is rough. I guess it’s true that being alone is better than being with the wrong person especially when that wrong person is a mean fish.