It was a warm, bright Sunday afternoon. Very much like most Sunday afternoons, actually, save for the key difference that made it unlike other Sunday afternoons. This difference being the small child standing alone in her bedroom, as opposed to running around and savoring the last of the weekend.
She couldn’t have been more than four or five years old; her clothes, mismatched and clashing (she’d dressed herself that morning, she was a big girl now!), bore stains that told of a healthy and active routine. None of that seemed to match the mood hovering about her now. She stood there, peering intensely into a glass bowl perched on a table in front of her. Within the glass bowl floated a single, solitary goldfish; it’s vacant eyes staring blankly outwards.
The goldfish was dead. It hung upside-down in its bowl, lifeless. The girl continued to stand there and look at her beloved pet, trying impossibly hard to grasp what had happened. She couldn’t quite und