I’m asked to keep Theo alive while she’s away, his rations a small pinch of flakes. She’ll be back in four days. My new roommate eyes me as he swims in circles. At feeding time, I offer a bit of food but can’t imagine the amount will sustain him. How could anything survive on so little? I can’t stand the thought of suffering, of hunger. I throw in more and watch him gobble gratefully. He must have been starving before. That evening, I’ll see vomited fish flakes speckle the water, Theo’s upturned body bobbing at the top of the bowl.
Elizabeth Koster's work has appeared or is forthcoming in River Teeth, Hobart, Lost Balloon, and The New York Times’ Modern Love column. Find Elizabeth on Twitter @elizkoster.