It was a kindness, her mother said, a kindness. He was getting too big for his bowl and they had to move house. He needed a bigger tank and they couldn’t have it at the apartment.

She used to put him on the windowsill in the house, so he could look out into front yard and see the trees and the people going by. She liked him to see the sun. He wasn’t an affectionate pet, never happy to see her but happy to be fed. She was happy to see him, bright golden orange and a long fanciful tail that trailed behind him. Sometimes she imagined him talking to her, as his mouth popped open and closed. She’d talk to him and wait for him to gulp around in his bright bowl to see him talking back. Mom was gone so much now, she liked having him to talk to when she was lonely. So much had changed.

They had to sell so many things from their bright, pretty little house to fit into the apartment. The new place was across town, full of parking lots and noise. Cars screamed by the house and the lights from the street kept her up. There were windows but no window sills. There would be no place for her little fish to look out.

After a while of talking she decided it was a kindness. A great big pond for him to swim around in, fish friends, he could still see the trees. A nice sunny day when they took him there, all the leaves had fallen off the trees but the pines still had green needles. She set his bowl in, carefully letting him adjust to the temperature. She was worried about the water, she put special drops in to treat it for him. She let a little of the pond water in at a time, letting him adjust to that too. Her knees ached from crouching and her mom had stepped back to take another call.

Then she let him go, watching the orange flash disappear into the green murky depths.

Now, it was all frozen over. Everything solid. Grass and leaves snapped under her feet. Mom was out again, another shift or another date, she couldn’t remember. She gently tested the ice with her feet, waiting in the clear silence for any cracking.

She scooted along the surface carefully, looking down: hoping or dreading to see a flash of color in the ice.