Bothersome Reflection

This morning I was standing on a wooden platform, staring into a metal tank of fish at Jungle Jim's, this huge grocery store outside Cincinnati. It was sad, for me. The crowd of fish floated there, drifting slowly around the center as the filtration system pumped in saltwater, and the water was clear enough that I could see their eyes, and their mouths, flapping open and shut. Signs nailed to the railings reminded me of the benefit of buying seafood fresh, and that nowhere had fresher seafood than Jungle Jim's, which was pretty obvious. All you had to do was turn half a step and you'd see all the fresh seafood, swimming in circles, waiting. I hurried down the steps and up an aisle, looking for some Bulgarian chocolate or wild saffron to examine.

Then, this evening, I was driving back from the north side of the city. I was southbound on I-465, the loop around Indianapolis. We came down a long hill and back up, and when I checked the rearview mirror I saw hundreds of pairs of headlights stretched out behind me, empty shiny circles following each other, all of us making our ways forward.

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