​I find it annoying that most people when they say 'I love fish' feel no need to specify 'dead' and 'fried'. Some people throw in the word 'to' in the middle but that is hardly the point I am trying to make. That one kind of conveys both meanings at the same time. It kills two birds with one arrow. Or two fish with a bait, to be hilarious. Anyway, the conversation Finn and Gill were having wasn't any better than this. "The weather is fine but it cod be better." Gill hummed in a shrill voice, banging her beer can hard on the table. "Oh dolphinately." added Finn as he cackled, slapping his hands on his lap. "Holy Carp! You are krilling me" Gill said from the other side. Her voice had hit the roof of her pitch. She could as well be in an Acapella. "Oh Cod! It cannot get Betta than that!" Finn replied gulping down his can in one go, spitting out half of it in middle of giggles. "Finn, that one was eel-y eel-y good! Oh my god, could this night get any punnier?" Gill replied as she choked herself laughing. The next minute she jumped of the stool, her stomach paining from all the manic energy. She needed to stop. "You need to clam down, buddy" Finn shouted at her as she walked around trying to stop laughing. Her entrails hurt from the vibrating. She was getting a little dizzy. Less from the beer, more from the puns. "I got one more, Gill! It is an FIN-teresting one" Finn lost it too at this one. He was rocking in quivers of laughs, spit falling out, jaws hurting, beer raining around. And Gill joined in, chuckling even harder than she was at the start. "Ok stop now. I can't laugh... Haaaaaaaa..... No really... You are such a pain in the ass!" she said hoola-hooping into another cackle. "Do you mean, pain in the BASS?! HEEEEEEE! GET IT? PAIN IN THE... BASS." More laughter. More spit. More eyes looking at them, two drunkards laughing there bass off. "Ok we need to stop. Otherwise we'll have to get tr-OUT!" Gill said as she slipped and banged her head on the barstool, then got up and continued to laugh in an even stronger fit. "Yeah, yeah, they will probably call the oooo-fish-ials on us." More laughter. "You don't want the cops as your anemonenies" It was finally time that they settled down back into their seats rubbing their bellies. The people around were probably glaring at them. But they were too late to care at this point. "I can't Fink of anemone" Finn said. Gill smiled. The joke was done. It didn't feel that funny anymore. The fading laughter brought back the ichthyologist. "So, this is it. I am leaving tomorrow" she said rubbing her head and throwing her hair back. "Yeah... Tomorrow... You better solve the Freshwater Fish Paradox." She smiled and chuckled a little. "You are making it sound like it's a big deal. It's just a research. To study the patterns in freshwater fishes and extrapolate data to account for their evolution." "Yeah, I don't know, that sure sounds like it's a big deal." "You were saying something earlier? Before the puns?" she said. "Oh, I guess I was. I... I don't really remember now." Silence. "I will tell you if I remember." "Yeah." The waiter walked in, his face knotted in disgust. The puddles of beer around the floor were enough to trigger his mood from bad to foul. But as he reached the table, he managed to pull the most artificial fake smile. "Here's your prawns, sir! Anything else?" "No that would be all!" The sight of prawns brought a smile back on their faces. "You know, when you first told me that you love fish?" Another giggle. "Yeah I do." "Right. I had thought you liked... Eating fish." Yet another giggle. The blushing kind. "I know." "Okay, you know what. I... I like you." The blood in his face was hot. Looking in her eyes, he could see the same. The smiling lips flattened into surprise. It felt like an infinity. In-fin-ity. Stop it. It's not the time for puns. She halted there, completely still for a moment. And then slowly, the smile grew back. And it grew larger. "So... You want me to be your Gill-friend?"

Wealth provided by the mineral rich soil of the land doesn't cross Jimmy's mind as he works in his mother's garden. It was her health that furrowed his brow. She had fallen ill months ago, becoming bed ridden shortly thereafter. She was a very closed off person, an introvert one might say; Jimmy had only known her to be stern and reclusive, even in his own upbringing. Jimmy had not seen his mother past his 18th birthday, shortly after his father's passing. Jimmy went on to become an entrepreneur, trying his hand at one business venture after another. He failed at every avenue, stocks yielding low and Covid laying him lower. However, he lived his life his way, without the yoke laid upon him by the hands of others. Life was hard, but he was still breathing. He had not heard from his mother since reaching adulthood, and his immediate exodus from her domicile; although he had not sought her out either. It came as a surprise to him when a man claiming to be her physician called him and said Jimmy's mother had fallen ill, that she wanted him to come tend to her garden until she got better. Jimmy's mother was very protective of "HER" garden. It was the one thing she truly cared for… "more than me even," he mused. She did not deserve respect, but Jimmy's father instilled a very strong ethical will within Jimmy. He did as he was asked. Jimmy went to his mother's home every day to tend to her garden. He would garden for over an hour then leave. He never went into her home. She never called on him or asked to see him, nor did he to her. This carried on for months, Jimmy a man of his word and a good son… for his "father's sake" Jimmy would tell himself. One afternoon, Jimmy pulled into the driveway of his mother's home to see an ambulance outside along the street. It was beginning to pull away… no flashing lights… no sirens. An old man in a black suit with greying black hair approached Jimmy with a solemn expression. "Jimmy, I take it?" The voice of his mother's physician. "I regret to inform you, but your mother has passed away." Jimmy stared at the man for a moment then turned coldly to walk to the garden. As he went to where he usually begins his tending, he noticed a mound of freshly turned soil. Jimmy kneeled down and shifted the soil to find a metal box. He looked at the physician who smiled and walked away. Jimmy opened the box to find an envelope inside. Within the envelope were two sheets of paper. Lettering upon the first read: "I'm sorry, I love you." A Deed to the home was signed over to Jimmy. Pictures were in there too, pictures of Jimmy throughout his life…past to present. His mother was always there, loving him the only way she knew how… from afar. (Image courtesy of Chris Yang unsplash.com)

I still remember my mother frantically waving goodbye with both empty hands swinging in the air on the day I left her, for the last time. Life has not been the same since then. Occasionally, I hear her innocent chuckles across the halls of my house and when I follow them - helplessly detecting the source; they become distant and then finally faint. The traumatic memory has forever engraved a feeling of guilt in my heart- the guilt of not being able to protect my most prized possession. Darkness descended, the water was calm, and the moon barely visible through the cloud cover. "Son, will you come back soon?" Mother inquired hesitantly. I had joined the army a few years ago and since then, life constituted of endless travels due to my strict schedule. As I packed the last of my things, turning towards mother, I saw the worry that lurked in her blue eyes. I held her bony hands with their calligraphy of veins, and assured her that I would be back the next morning. The night came down like sheets of silver knives; blinking my eyes continuously, I made an effort to while away my fatigue and stay alert, for I was part of the battalion watch guard of the line of control. Just then, I heard briskly walking footsteps approaching towards me. "Sir! Sector 9300 is under attack! Immediate orders have been issued for Battalion 194 to change posts." As the envoy marched away, I felt sick to my stomach. A cold fear rushed through my veins. It occurred to me, that sector 194 included my own residence! Upon reaching the site, I felt a strong taste of metallic fear in my mouth for the sky was bleached white with drifts in it of what first appeared to be red smoke, but then proved to be blood red dust. Broken, shattered pieces of glass, destructed buildings and fallen trees lay amidst a mesh of blackened faces with streaks of blot clot. The streets were dark- not just dark, but pitch dark. Marching through the mist of thick grey smog, searching endlessly for my resident, I was praying and hoping that Mother would be alright. Adjusting my eyes to the gloom, I saw the figure of a woman. As I came closer, the silver splintered brown hair and velvet wrap illuminated my thoughts. Her face was barely recognizable due to the immense destruction. With eyes suffused in tears, I took off my jacket in vein and gracefully covered her body. She was gone and there would never be another like her; an overwhelming personality with a soothing spirit and a voice that could move crowds to both tears and laughter. If only I had not left her. If only I had never said goodbye.