I remember my first pet. It was orange and came in a plastic bag, and it was mine because Dad had stuck three cards to the dartboard.
We took Goldie home on the train. Her plastic membrane segregated her from the world hurtling past outside. Curiosity and boredom conjoined. I wanted her world to meet mine.
I only opened the bag a fraction. Dad leapt up and caught some of the water in his coffee cup. He tied the bag with his shoelace. Goldie survived.
These days they don’t give fish away as prizes. Kids might get the wrong idea.

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