A Change of Plans

     I’m in a market on 24th Street looking at the different kinds
of fish lying on ice, when all of a sudden I notice that one of them
is still alive. I see that he’s breathing in and out very slowly,
surely on his ‘last fin.’
     I look at the sign and see that he’s a Mackerel, about the same
size as all the rest.
     Suddenly I feel sad for him, sad enough that I think about
buying him and asking the lady behind the counter to put him
back in the tank.
     I consider this for a minute. but then decide that even if I paid
to have her do so, the fish would probably not revive, and as soon
as I left she would certainly take him out and put him back with
the others.
     I no longer feel like eating fish for dinner, so when I get home
I tell my wife that I prefer we eat out—which she agrees to, both
of us eating lamb shawarmas in a restaurant that we've been to
several times before...

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