Forget-Me-Not

MY GOLDFISH IS DYING. This may not strike you as the most urgent issue in the world—the one that should most compel me to put pen to paper—but, crucially, he is dying next to me right now, as I write this. Which makes it rather hard to be objective about the situation.

He was initially relocated from the kitchen as a temporary measure, when my wife decreed that the persistent low buzz emanating from his air-pump was too much of a distraction while we were eating