Literature
The Storm
Once, a long time ago when I was a child, I taught a goldfish to speak. He really, honest to god, could speak, and he always knew what I was saying. It was just that the only ever felt like saying was “Sandra, a storm is coming”. He was a very peculiar fish he was, but I loved him nonetheless.
That fish was smart, but it took him ages to figure out how to talk. The first time he said those words—bubbly and barely audible “Sandra, a storm is coming”—I fell over in surprise, but then proceeded to panic. At the time I’d thought he’d meant
