Talking Pet prompt - Return of the Gill
She shrieked - brief, staccato - when the slick sewer water dripped off of me and struck her forehead. She looked up, but I was already gone. I heard her mumble under her breath, something about a leak in the ceiling.
She went to the kitchen counter and put her bag down. That was when I chose to reveal myself.
"Katrina." The rasp left my parched throat. She jumped.
"Hello?" she said, backing up just a little as I slid into the light. I dropped my trench coat and let her see my rippling orange fins.
"You probably don’t remember me." I said. She stared speechless. "Never thought your old goldfish Fido would come crawling back."
"I, I…" her lips sputtered feebly, as if gasping for breath in a stream of cold excrement.
"You shouldn’t have flushed me, Katrina."
"But, I didn’t… Mom said you were sick, and I had to."
"Oh, that’s all?" I said, and pushed my tail to glide closer. "Likely story."
"Why are you here?" she asked.
"To catch up. It’s been a while."
"Yes," she said, moving around the counter, walking her hands bit by bit to a magnetic strip holding various kitchen implements.
The radioactive mutagen agent I encountered in the sewers had made me a lot of things - but not dumb. I mean, I still just had a goldfish brain, wasn’t the greatest at memory or long-division, but it had grown significantly larger, along with the rest of my body. I could hold myself up straight, and see clearly through the dry air. I saw her eyes on the carving knife. Broke my heart all over again.
I slapped my fin down on the counter. She froze.
"Katrina, I’m not here to hurt you. Not at all. I understand if you’re scared, but you’re just gonna have to accept that there’s a seven-foot tall fish in your house." She glared.
"You’re getting water all over my floor." She snapped. There was a puddle around me, but I still felt way too dry. "What do you want?"
"I just, I guess I have questions."
"My name. I found out that ‘Fido’ is usually, uh, a dog. Were you you going for an ironic dog name?"
"I don’t know," she said. "I was five."
"Yeah. Well, why’d you pick me?"
"Why’d you pick me out of all the other goldfish in the store?"
"I… you just… you had a cool black spot on your tail, and I thought it looked kinda purple, and liked it." She was shaking lightly.
I still had that spot on my tail. Never thought about it before, but I guess it had made me special. Then, after a few months, I was just another fish down the crapper.
"Your face was the only one I had when I was alone," I said. "just wondered if it was worth hanging onto for so long." I turned away, ready to flop out of there.
"Fido! Wait," she said. I waited. Her face had been dry, but now it was wet. "I really didn’t want to get rid of you, but we were moving out of the house, and the new apartment didn’t allow any pets. Not even fish. I thought I was giving you a better life." She talked fast, sniffled, leaned on the counter, still trembling. "I loved you, Fido."
"Why’d you have go say that?" I groaned through my gills. "I was just ready to leave."
"You don’t have to go," she said.
"Well, maybe we should get out of here," I said. "Sit down and talk somewhere." She hesitated, then smiled.
"Yeah. If you want grab a bite, there’s this sushi place in town I like." She looked at me funny, but I didn’t bother to explain myself.
"Okay. Sounds good," she said at last.
"Alright," I said. Fish can’t smile, but I was smiling. It was subtle. "Do me a favor though: can you get a glass of water? My scales feel like a desert."
"Sure." She poured it and brought the water over.
"Just splash it on me," I said.
We walked out, her hand on my fin.
