It swallows most things thrown at it, so be careful. I once lost the memory of a three-year relationship down that dusty little gullet. I had to reconstruct everything from pictures around the house, old photos on the computer and a few texts I had saved for no obvious reason. I had deleted all the emails, apparently.
She had mousy brown hair, but dyed it reddish sometimes. It looked better undyed. Petite, eyes sunken in a little bit like she was tired, but the smile seemed real enough most of the time. As the hair got redder, the smile looked less and less convincing.
I expected more clues about her profession, but all I found out was that her job involved kids. She could have been a teacher or a doctor or professional toddler-walker.
She was a terrible speller, but that may have been a texting thing.
There was a dog in some of the pictures, a merrily stupid golden retriever. I looked at the fish, wondering if the dog had disappeared through that open mouth too.
Finally, at the bottom of the box, I found a wedding invitation. It was for her and someone who wasn’t me. There was a picture in the invitation, which I thought was odd. Her hair was mousy brown, and her smile was dazzling.
I looked at fish’s mouth again.
In I go.