Tom had always laughed when people said owning a pet could change your life. To him, his goldfish, Bubbles, was nothing more than a silent companion in a glass bowl. He fed it, tapped the glass occasionally, and went on with his day.
Then one evening, he noticed something odd.
The colored pebbles at the bottom of the bowl weren’t scattered randomly like usual. They formed clumps, almost like little patterns.
Tom leaned closer. “Weird,” he muttered.
The next morning, it was different again. This time, the pebbles seemed arranged in crooked lines. Shapes.
He chuckled nervously. “What are you doing in there, Bubbles? Playing Tetris?”
But on the third day, Tom nearly dropped his coffee.
The pebbles spelled a word.
HI.
He stared, eyes wide. The fish flicked its tail, swimming in lazy circles as if nothing was wrong.
“Okay,” Tom said aloud. “I’m just tired. It’s… coincidence.”
But the following night, when he returned from work, his stomach turned to ice.
The pebbles now spelled his name.
TOM.
Heart hammering, he grabbed his phone to snap a photo. But before he could, the goldfish darted across the bowl, scattering the letters.
He barely slept, his mind racing.
By morning, he crept back to the bowl. The pebbles were rearranged again. This time, they spelled:
DOOR.
Tom blinked, confused. “Door? What door?”
As if on cue, there was a knock at the front door.
He froze.
Peeking through the window, he saw no one. Only an envelope lying on the porch.
With trembling hands, Tom picked it up and tore it open. Inside was a single slip of paper, blank except for one word, scrawled in messy handwriting:
HI.
He turned slowly toward the fishbowl.
Bubbles swam in calm circles, the pebbles at the bottom perfectly still.
