I was watching a fish. (Two fishes actually, but this particular story only relates to the depicted one.) Her name was Constance. I had taken care of her for quite some time - a month, perhaps two. Everything was going well; we chatted daily, tried to figure out the meaning of life, I fed her. The usual things.
One day, however, things did not seem right. Thunderous moanings bellowed outside, while the skies showered us with tears. I hurried home, afraid of what I might find. Once inside I ran to Constance's bowl - but I was too late. She didn't move.
I was in shock. With tears in my eyes I rung up my friend, Constance's owner and care-taker, and forwarded the sad news. He came by, and we had a beautiful ceremony. It was difficult, but we pulled through. We take solace in knowing that Constance have finally found rest with the merciful porcelain god.
Fare thee well, Constance. You will be missed.