When he gets home, he slides you into a goldfish bowl. You think there’s no way you can fit, what with the tail and fronds, but the water accommodates like a glove. Morning and evening, he shakes a plastic tub. The food falls in a drift of salty confetti. You flick your clever tongue and…
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Text & stories © Joanna Sterling
Stories © various authors
Editing by Joanna Sterling & Alyson Faye
Audio by Menna Bonsels
Brooch photography by Mark Colliton
Website by Brighton WEBtech