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As she sat she stared, and as she stared she tried to remember. But

there was nothing. Goldie’s roomwas still and filled with objects and

memories which she couldn’t place, treasures that could be seen but

not found. Faces surrounded her begging to be remembered but to

her they had no meaning. Confused and tired she resorted to staring.

Looking at the trees that swayed in the scene, new every time. It was

a sad end but not one that could be changed.

Round and round the goldfish went with both his mind and body like a dog chasing

their tail. It was never dull in his glass bowl. With the time it took him to venture to

one end on the way back would be new and different. Well to him anyway.

Gold hair flittered across in the breeze. Tendrils floating. Her

skin now delicate with age and a sun kissed glow. She was definitely

once beautiful. A real stunner. Her loose clothes cascaded around

her, holding her attention for a short while. Something was going to

happen today. Yet as hard as she tried she did not know what would

happen. A recurring theme for Goldie. Thoughts swimming through

her brain never seemed to rest and when they did those were the

moments of reprieve from this sad end. The times when her eyes

widened with recognition or knowledge of some sort, which gave

hints to how little she could remember. In an instant it is gone and

her eyes are glassing over with forget and gloom. Wading through

life once again.

The goldfish swam, up and down, not ever growing tired of his glass bowl. The

pebbles shined but not one meant something to him. As the goldfish swam, the

light hitting his scaly skin reflected off him, shimmering around the bowl, always

changing the scene conveying the reason for his large glassy eyes. He flittered

around, gliding through the water with his feathery fins which cascaded around

his body, looking like a loose veil. One thing was true, if not a beautiful creature

then it was nothing else.

The oak door squeaked open with warning, frightening Goldie a

bit. She did not know who was entering, not an ounce of recognition

filled her when hopeful eyes gazed at her, waiting and expecting a

response. She could not remember who this was, just a nameless fish

in the pond. She stared into distantly familiar eyes wishing for some

sort of recognition. “Grandma, how are you feeling?” the young man

asked in a sedated tone that could only be called tiredly hopeful,

giving Goldie the feeling that this man meant something to her.

Worry began to well up from the pit of her stomach, gliding up to

her chest making anxiety bubble over. She whipped her head back