General

Liam ran his still oil fingers over the recently buffed glass, eyes fixed on the tropical fish. Part of his brain admired the fish, it reminded him of fall leaves, vibrant and thin. Beneath the scales of impossibly bright yellow were guts, a heart, muscles... yet looking at it head on it almost disappeared except the bulging eyes. The other part of his mind was on the glass itself, the tank. Water is heavy; how were this sheets held together with glue strong enough? His finger trailed downward leaving a rainbow sheen in the late afternoon light, his mind back into how to con David before it reached the lower edge...