“I kind of thought they would be, you know, brighter,” the little girl said as she watched the glowing goldfish in the tank. They darted around in patterns only they understood, weaving in and out of each other’s paths, and even brushing up against each other’s scales. These collisions seemed to go unnoticed by the fish; they swam without pause.
The little girl noticed their scaled bellies glowed a soft gold, almost imperceptibly. It was so faint that it could be mistaken for a trick of the light. A lamp hung above the tank, and a cord ran from the back of it to a switch on the counter. Taped to the switch was a note that read: “Try Me.” She flipped the switch off, plunging the tank into darkness.
Without light, it was clear to see that the stomachs of the goldfish were indeed glowing, but just barely, like the last ember of a crushed cigarette refusing to fade to ash.
The frantic swimming in the tank slowed down, as if the dark was thickening the water into molasses. Sleepy, trickling light streams trailed without urgency. The little girl flipped the switch back on, and the goldfish resumed flitting about the tank.
The shopkeeper came over with a net and scooped one of the goldfish into a jar of water at the ready. The belly of the goldfish lit up like gasoline catching fire, transforming the jar into a lightbulb burning so bright the little girl couldn’t stare at it directly. Rays of light swept around the shop like a searchlight as the goldfish did laps around the container.
“They glow brighter alone,” the shopkeeper said. “Back in the day, people thought it was because the fish were healthier alone. That maybe the glow was caused by something they ate. Similar to why flamingoes are pink. People thought too many fish meant not enough resources, and that’s why they’re dull together. But the truth is, when they’re bright like this, it means they’re lonely. They’re trying to attract other goldfish. But the internal chemistry that makes them glow also poisons them. The brighter they burn, the shorter their lifespans. Finding other goldfish is truly life or death for them.”
“Doesn’t that mean it’s cruel to separate them?” the little girl asked.
“But that’s when the goldfish are their most beautiful,” the shopkeeper said. “So, which is crueler? Making them shine so radiantly, even though it’ll kill them, or letting them live long lives if it means they’ll be dull? I leave such decisions up to the customer.”
Using both hands, the shopkeeper picked up the jar and slowly poured the contents into the tank, allowing the goldfish to rejoin the school. Immediately, the glow filling the store died down. Turning back to the little girl, the shopkeeper asked, “Which one do you like? For only a dollar, you can take it home.”
The little girl shoved her fingers deep into her pocket and dug past the coins and crumpled-up gum wrappers to the bills at the bottom. “Actually, I’ll take two, please,” she said.