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Weekly Contest #369
Your stupid fish got sick. I woke up one afternoon to feed Winston some breakfast when I realized that she was lingering on the bottom of her bowl, her belly kissing the aquarium pebbles. Her dinner flakes were still littering the surface of the water. I blinked at her limp body and wracked my sleep-addled brain. Was she like that last night? When was the last time that I actually looked at her? How could I not have noticed something was off? You knew that I hated that damned fish, that sentient potato, the object of your undying affec...
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