betta fish

Photo by Angie Shenouda

By Angie Shenouda

when i was 7 my dad brought home a little blue friend who floated inside a cup no bigger than my palm. he was angelic, a wave of delicate indigo dancing around his body. he hovered, eyes dull, the once colorful world warped and blurry behind a thin glass film. some days i tried to hold him- as friends do- but he slipped away between my fingers, a silky beautiful anger, thrashing in circles searching for somewhere else. there was nowhere else. one day they put his home on the windowsill in the kitchen where i couldn’t reach, or even see, and that was the last i was aware of his existence for some time. 

i’d say i’m sorry if i could.

(i’m sorry.)


Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s