The fish swam past him lazily.
josh
Its fins were lightning yellow - not that he’d ever seen lightning with his own eyes before, merely something he’d heard whispered from the rumour mill. Its delicate scales lined a sleek, if somewhat short, body that glistened in shades of aqua. They were quite remarkable in the low afternoon sun, the gentle stream of water reflecting and refracting rays of light all around him. He was lying in the shallows of a creek, not far away from home - a long-standing morning ritual to connect himself to the miracle of nature. He had never seen a fish like this in his pocket of the globe before. It must be on an adventure, one of its own life quests, exploring uncharted territory, paving the way for future pioneers of its kind.
“Hey!” He called out. “Where are you going?”
The fish turned toward him with a lethargic swivel that started from the tip of its face and slowly rolled down their flank until its entire body had finally rotated in his direction. What a dance, he thought to himself, impressed with the control of this specimen.
“There is nowhere to go anymore, I am simply moving to give myself something to do.”
Stunned, he realised this fish was on no adventure. He was lost, both geographically and spiritually. Something about the apathy of the fish moved him, made him think of his Brother, who he had not seen in over a decade. A joyous creature himself, he had never understood this nonchalance towards life, choosing instead to seek pleasure wherever he could - pain never crossed his threshold.
“Little fish,” he tried to remain calm, non-patronising. “There are so many places to go, so much to see and live for in this world.”
“I respect your efforts, but they are wasted on my tired soul.”
“What about your shimmering coat? Can you not see its kaleidoscopic world of colours reflecting across the sea floor as you swim onwards? You’re dazzling!”
“I am not dazzled, but blinded. So plagued by bright colours all my life that have slowly chipped away at my vision - I can barely make out your features through my withered sight.”
“Well, I’m devilishly handsome.” Not big-headed, he believed, but honest, and correct.
“I wouldn’t know anything about that. ‘Handsome’ is not a word I associate with my life. ‘Handsome’ I am not.”
“Of course you are - if you can’t see it in your colours, can you see it in your svelte form, in your graceful maneuvers through the rapidly flowing ravines, rivers and oceans? There must be some time you saw love, some time you felt love in yourself?”
He could see the fish think - genuinely think - and reach back through life to its past, to a moment where they maybe once felt joy, felt good enough.
“There may have been a moment, many years ago-”
The sky broke before our dear fish found peace, a malevolent bolt diving towards Earth, and he finally saw lightning yellow.
It was beautiful.