He returned to the flat to find her sat on the sofa with her arms crossed.
“I’ve killed the fish,” she said.
He put the shopping on the table and walked over to the tank. The little blue-and-gold fish were floating bloated on the surface like capsized boats.
A wire or pipe he didn’t recognise trailed into the water.
“Don’t touch it,” she said from the sofa.
The wire was connected to the toaster, which rested perfectly upright on the floor of the tank between the coral and the sunken pirate ship. It was still plugged in at the mains. He disconnected it.
“I’ve just spent £4.20 on tank-cleaning products,” he told her.
“And the fish weren’t cheap either,” she said. “I found your receipt.”
He poked one of the Red-top Zebras and watched it drift. “I suppose they wouldn’t give us a refund now,” he said. “We might as well throw that away.”
“That’s what I thought, so I ate it,” she said.
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