Hook stares at the fish; the fish stares back. He opens and closes his mouth; so does the fish. Where’s its little friend? Down behind the little plastic castle taking it easy, away from the artificial lights illuminating the tank twenty-four-seven like some terrible god.
Do fish sleep and dream? Is the castle made of plastic? Hook has no idea. He has no idea how most things are made, or of what material: it’s only recently he learned colanders are made of nylon. The news depressed him – how many gaps are there in his knowledge? Will he ever fill them and does it matter?
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