The fish grew larger than the moving sea shell, and was grateful when a wave crested into its tidal pool and pulled it out. It swirled and thrashed and spun, and found itself in more water than it had ever seen. It stayed close to the sand.
One night, when the light from the sky was as bright as the fish had ever seen, splashing and feet disrupted the fish's sandy rest. Lovers rolled in the sand and drunkards postured in the water. The fish fled.
The fish found a colony of other fish, and it felt comfortable there. The fish ate and periodically wondered at the large, masked, awkward bodies that came to mingle. The bodies seemed to want to join, but could only linger.
The fish didn't know when it died. Who does? And it didn't miss the crystal blue water and white sand. But it would have if it could have.
A cemetery in Grand Cayman.