Candy's pyjamas were yellow goldfish on pink flannel. She sat on the edge of her bed, a cigarette dangling from her lip, two drinks down, and painting her toenails as best as humanly possible. The clock radio on her nightstand flipped a digit.

A fishbowl sat near the bathroom sink where an endless drip stained the porcelain. The bowl was surrounded by crumpled squeeze tubes and scented bottles in a state of hygienic disarray. A telephone booth leaned in the murky water, surrounded by vaguely pink gravel. The fish floated upside down.

In the bedroom another digit flipped on the clock radio. Candy snuffed her cigarette in an overflowing tray, picked up the phone, and dialed.

"Hey, I know you aren't listening to my messages. It makes no difference. At any rate, I didn't mean all that nonsense. I just called back to tell you how much I adore you. We are meant to be together."

For a brief moment of reflection, Candy glanced at the fishbowl in the bathroom mirror. Then she leaned in on the phone. "Look, I know you're there. Pick up the damn phone before I come over and flush you down the toilet."

The goldfish in the bathroom flipped right side up. It fluttered around with wide, clear eyes once more just like magic.