Goldfish-Personal Narrative

The air was heavy with moisture in the dark room. The sound of fitters pounding water into the tanks was ringing in my ears as I walked to the back of the shop. The tanks were stacked on tall selves that didn’t seem to be able to hold. As I walked, I got more and more existed, and then at the back of the store I saw him. I peered into the lit tank, and into his unblinking eyes. At top of his plump little head was red, like a little helmet. His little body swayed with the water, and wiggled about when he tried to keep up with the others like him. His tail was a beautiful ribbon flowing as he went. This sounds like a merman, and to me he was, but, he was a goldfish.
I named him Adam Lefine. He was a lovely red cap Orlanda. When I was in the car, I felt his little body move in the bag the fish store plopped him in. Little movements of the water as his little body rushed around. When we got home I put the little bag into my tank so he could tempter acclimated, as my mom sat in the chair, “$20 for a goldfish good God.” She said with a sour voice. I let the rude

I would look at my 20-gallon tank, and think it was too small, yet people can put goldfish in cups. The thought of Adam being in such a small space hurt me. I watch him swim up to the top of his tank, back down, and go all around. He wouldn’t be able to live in a cup or bowl, and it would hurt him to only be able to swim in a cold, drab, small, and dark bowl. I loved to watch his chubby body explore his home. I wish I could get him a bigger home, so he could swim longer before he would have to turn around. I would look at tanks at the pet store. I had people come up to me as I looked at the 30-50-gallon tanks they would ask what kind of fish I had, I would tell them, and their replies would very but it meant the same thing, “it’s just a goldfish.”. Their worlds would