Smoke city

For the past fortnight I’ve been fish-sitting for my flatmate while she was on holiday. It’s been quite pleasing actually; they’ve all got little characters, and watching them gliding about is remarkably soothing. Unfortunately, though, one of them is a bit of a bully, and has been chasing the rival male and biting at his tail. Today, this culminated in the untimely death of the rival, or ‘bigger orange one’ as I knew him. My flatmate is sad, but philosophical: “I’ll just have to buy a new one that’s too big to eat.”

To our fallen fish friend: Underwater Love (or not, as the case may be)

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