On April 27, 2003, Jessica brought home a beautiful little Beta fish. We named her Hio.
Hio enjoyed squishing her head between the marbles at the bottom of her bowl. If she wasn’t squishing her head at the bottom, she’d float sideways up at the top. Presumably because she’s wished for death since the moment she met me, and because she was an asshole.
Mom enjoyed talking to Hio in a high-pitched voice for tens of minutes at a time, petting her through the glass.
This morning, after having had her for 3 years, 7 months and 14 days, I found her unresponsive to being fed. Hio died doing what she loved, both with her head squished between the marbles, and floating sideways.
Funeral processions will be held tonight, in the garden by the side of my apartment.
You were a good fish, Hio. I’ll miss you.
