He felt smaller with every encounter, like the land itself was being chipped away from under him. The walls of his house seemed to lean in closer each day, holding in the noise, the vibration, the smell of diesel that clung to the air. He poured himself a cup of coffee he didn’t want and stared out the kitchen window, where the evening light hit the pond just right.
Maybe the fish would calm him, like they always did. But when he stepped outside, his stomach dropped. The pond’s surface shimmered wrong. It felt broken, uneven. Two koi flopped helplessly near the edge, their bright scales catching the porch light as they struggled for air. The filter gurgled dry, sucking nothing but air. “No, no, no,” Walter muttered, rushing forward.