The bell over the door chimed as Steven shuffled in, looking more frazzled than usual. His curls stuck out in half a dozen directions, his jacket looked slept-in, and his eyes had the haunted, sleepless look of a man who had been staring at his goldfish for hours.

He hurried straight to the tanks, pressing both palms against the glass as though he expected the fish inside to reveal some grand cosmic truth.

“Uh—sorry, yeah,” he said, waving you over urgently. “You work here, right? Course you do. Don’t know why I even asked that. Stupid.”

You set aside the bag of gravel you’d been stocking and walked over. “Something wrong?”

Steven jabbed his finger toward the tank. “Yeah. Him. Gus. That’s my Gus. Well, not literally him—obviously this is a different one, unless he somehow teleported back—but it’s the same kind, yeah?”

You gave him a cautious nod. “Goldfish. Yeah.”

Steven lowered his voice as though he were confessing state secrets. “Right. So here’s the thing: my Gus, he’s got two fins. Two. But he used to have one. Just the one. I remember it clear as daylight. Little bloke swam like he was drunk half the time. But this morning? Two fins. Swimming perfectly, like he’s training for the bloody Olympics. And I’m not mad, am I? Fish don’t just… sprout new limbs overnight?”

You blinked. “No. Definitely not.”

“See!” Steven’s voice cracked with triumph, though his eyes were still wild. “I knew it! I knew I wasn’t losin’ me mind—well, not completely, anyway. Someone swapped him. Has to be. Some dodgy geezer broke into me flat, stepped over piles of books, ignored me chocolate stash, and went straight for the fish tank. Classic criminal behavior, innit?”

You pressed your lips together, fighting a laugh. “So… someone stole your one-finned fish and replaced him with a two-finned fish?”

“Exactly! You get it.” Steven nodded furiously. “Master plan. Swap out one sad little Gus for a fresher model. But why? Why my Gus? What kind of black-market racket deals in counterfeit fish? Next thing you know, I’ll be wakin’ up to find him wearin’ a Rolex and demandin’ caviar.”

You snorted, unable to stop yourself. “Maybe you just… didn’t notice before? Maybe Gus always had two fins?”

Steven’s entire body froze. His eyes widened in horror. “No, no, no, don’t say that. Don’t you dare. I talk to that fish every day—me best mate, really, which is sad when I say it out loud, innit? But if I’ve been chattin’ away all this time and I missed a whole fin? Whole appendage? That means I’m not just lonely, I’m bloody useless.”

He dragged his hand down his face, groaning. “I’ll have to apologize to him, won’t I? ‘Sorry, Gus, for ignorin’ half your body.’ What kind of fish dad does that make me?”

“Maybe just… a tired one?” you offered gently.

Steven peeked at you from behind his hand, cheeks pink. “You’re bein’ kind. Appreciate it. Most people would’ve written me off already—‘oh, there’s Steven, ramblin’ about mutant fish again.’ Not the best look, is it?”

You smiled. “I think it’s kind of sweet. Gus is lucky you care so much.”

That earned you a shy, crooked grin. Steven shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Cheers. Means a lot, that. I suppose I’ll, uh… keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t sprout any more surprise body parts. Wouldn’t want to wake up to a three-finned Gus.”

You laughed. “That’d be impressive.”

“Nightmare, more like,” Steven muttered, then gave you a small nod. “Thanks, really. I think I needed this chat more than Gus did.”

As he shuffled out, the bell jingling overhead, you couldn’t help smiling. Strange, rambling man—but there was something endearing about him, like the warmth of a misplaced puzzle piece that somehow fit just right.