The others had disappeared one by one, sometimes several in a day, sometimes only one a week. He hadn’t given it much thought at the time but now that he was alone, he was nervous. Rubbing up against the fern leaves didn’t make him feel better liked it used to, so he settled for hiding in one of the caves on the sea floor and watching particles float in the dimly lit water.

Eventually he realized he was hungry and swam out to look for food. He didn’t feel the water moving behind him until it was too late, and suddenly he was rising and the sea had shrunk to a tiny globe. He circled frantically, signaling for help even though he knew there was no one to see it. Tremors shook the water. He wondered if he was dying. He hoped he had been a good fish so he could go to the Great Ocean. Then he wouldn’t be the last fish in the sea anymore.

“I’m going to call him Patrick,” the little girl said as her father paid for the fish.

“Let’s get Patrick home so he can meet everyone else in the tank,” her father replied.