I slumped over my kitchen table; raising my head, my eyes first fell on the fishbowl in the middle of the table housing the average-looking goldfish I bought on a whim a few months back. My cousins insisted on calling it Gus, so naturally I also called the little guy Gus.

I watched Gus circling in his bowl, his large eyes staring ever forward into his liquid nothingness. Kinda crazy, I thought, that something could stand so much boredom & still keep swimming.

Then again, I shouldn’t really be talking. Nothing too exciting had been going on in my life, either. My serious contemplation of the anticlimactic life of a cheap goldfish proved my point well enough.

But I watched Gus a little more. Maybe he had a reason to keep swimming in circles that just wasn’t clear yet. Perhaps he kept going because he didn’t want to miss out on some small form of adventure. I thought about it, Gus probably had the right idea.

I thought about it a bit more, then decided, “Maybe I should stop making metaphors out of goldfish.”

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