“I didn’t think I’d miss having a goldfish ignore me so much,” Sloane said, her voice thick. “He’s perfect. Thank you.” “I’m glad you like him. The store said he was the feistiest one.” We stared at the fish as it lazily circled the pagoda. “But they didn’t define what they meant by feisty.” “Feisty.” Sloane pursed her lips in thought. “That should be his name.” Feisty the Fish? My God.
