You see me at the petstore. I cannot make out your face; to me, it is simply a moving mass of pink that stares at me with eyes larger than my body. You are terrifying.
I swim in my own filth, detritus clouding the water around me and laboring my breathing. My gills flare, trying to soak in every bit of oxygen my tiny plastic prison holds. So many days I have been lying here, each day sapping my strength just a little bit more. My colors fade away. My fins, once so long and beautiful, become ragged things with rotting black edges. Is this my life now? Will I wither away and die in this tiny cup?
AsI lay there, you pick up my cup, jostling me though you try to be gentle.
And then I am moving.
Carried away from my shelf and into sunlight.
I am carried…
👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏