Her daughter’s ancient blue betta fish floated at the top of the water in the fish bowl.
The boy tapped the side of the glass, first gently and then harder. The fighting fish did not even flare its fancy fins in response.
“Is the fish dead?”
She shook her head. “No, the fish just appears dead most of the time.”
She had a fish that didn’t swim but couldn’t be killed – which fit her life perfectly in that particular moment.