We were giggling
hard, the four of us. Perhaps not as
hard as we were trying to keep the fishes between our fingers. But hard. We had
to hold tight to the fishes, so none of them slipped. Each of us held a fish in
our hands yet we didn’t immediately want to drop them in the bucket by the
shore. Omole, the smallest of us was chortling excessively and soon the fish he
held dropped. It shook its tailfin, as if grateful for returning home alive,
then evanesced quickly under so we could not see it again.
‘Now see how you people made me drop my fish’
he had a mournful look on his face, yet he was trying to hold back laughter
with his fingers pressing his lips
