He is the only one who stares at me.   I am the only one who stares at him.   One dead fish with dead eyes and decaying scales like mine.  One who does not live here, but died here.   One explanation of the horrid smell.  From his tank, he can see me, I can see him, but he just stares and I just lie.
His new life is secret.  He never floated up.  He died up and he stayed down and he sunk into the rocks and hid in the plants with four days lost and never came back up.   This is how he died.
Let one forget his reason for living, he’d learned helplessness in the tank, swimming in circles looking to escape.  Drown, drown, drown he’d say when I disappeared.  He laughed.
When I am too disgusted and too depressed to keep living, when I am a forgotten and discarded, then it is when I look at him.  When there is nothing left for me to look at in my life.  One who died despite the love I gave him.  One who came back to life and did not forget to come back to life.  One whose only reason was to survive and survive.