Chapter 11The fish swims through the air up to Radhi’s face. Looking him in the eye, its pouting mouth opens and closes as if talking. The trout’s words don’t make sense, not at first, but then Radhi somehow translates them into English. “I want to live.”
The red stripe flashes. The tail flaps in alarm, as the air drains away. Blue skies turn gray, leaving the fish floundering on the ground. Dry dust dulls its silvery scales.
For the first time in his life, the full extent of his mortality, with all its mystery and pathos, comes crashing down on him. The fish and its surroundings fade to black. So, this is dying. He wants to live.
As chills fight with pain to own his body, one hand senses warmth. He wiggles the fingers. They move freely unlike the rest of him, encased in total darkness.
