A Fish in the Night

The fish sailed through the window, a silver knife in the moonlight, to land on the duvet in silence.

The sisters woke simultaneously. Recalled years later, one remembered it as aqua, the other as a red thing streaked with orange. Yet both would remember. An alien fish, one insisted. A ghost or a spirit, the other felt sure. The fish flopped there in the softness, refusing to state its purpose. An evil thing, one girl whispered. A good omen, the other contested. An uninterested observer, they finally concluded.

But neither one thought

To drop it in a bowl of water.