She opened her eyes startled to see a folded note on the pillow beside her instead of the dead goldfish she had embalmed the night before, her former companion of many years. She thought it a dream, perhaps, as she lived alone and such a thing could not possibly happen. She closed her eyes again and suddenly sat up gasping for air upon realizing it was no illusion -- he was indeed stolen from his tiny coffin...she had put many hours into carving that coffin by hand and painting intricate sickening swirls. He was gone. He was gone.

He was gone.
She cried.
She panicked.
She let out a blood curdling scream.

She stood on her bed, back pressed against the wall in fear, and looked at what could only be a ransom note. In blood red ink the Christian fish was drawn out. Fighting paralysis, she kneeled down to examine the note closer. The paper appeared to be recently handmade with what she soon realized was fish food pressed into it. She screamed again and cried for a moment, forced out of her delirious daze by the realization that someone had been in her home.

And - He was gone.

She lifted up the paper which seemed oddly heavy, and dared to unfold it.
She blacked out instantly.

Fish scales make for nice collages, apparently.
This one spelled out "Love, FishyPoo."

She woke up to a darkened room, the note clenched in her hand, and she resolved that it should be framed and hung up in her living room. It was a lovely gesture on the creator's part, and was indeed a much cleaner tribute to him, her beloved former companion. "I love it," she said, the corners of her eyes welling with tears as happy memories swam through her mind.

She decided she would have salmon for dinner.
Indeed. Salmon.
He was gone.

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