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Purple frowned at the sticky note on the fridge they wrote themselves yesterday: it's grocery day.
Every last of the month, Purple would go out and buy groceries. It would mark the only time in the month they would leave the house. Ever since the Mira incident, Purple refused to step outside their door more than they'd have to — I mean, why should they? To make a friend that'll eventually betray and sell them out? No chance. Not again.
Making their way back to the living area, they searched through the forests of empty cup noodle packages and unclean mugs scattered throughout the floor and coffee table for their house keys and wallet. Only having found their wallet, they peeked inside. It was the last of their previous salary from the job they worked at Mira all those years ago. Purple had organized their rations to be able to survive and apparently this month would be the final one before they were on their own.
Putting their wallet down, Purple continued the search for the keys, nearly tripping on a magenta mug they had gotten that one time they and Red had relocated temporarily to Polus.
It was so fun, those few weeks at Polus. Purple recalled Red having made a snowman of them, albeit not very accurate. Catching themself smiling at the memory, they shook their head. No, Red is evil and sucks up to a capitalist corporation.
Finally finding the keys, they went out, stepping on an envelope placed on their doormat. Reading who it's from, Purple tossed it back inside. They'd deal with it later. They made their way to the elevator.
Going down, the elevator's blue fluorescent light kept flickering, irritating Purple to the point of yelling at the inanimate lamp. Not a good look.
Arriving at the lobby, they exited the building. The sun's stupid bright rays flashed directly into Purple's eyes, blinding them. They quickly got the sunglasses they clip to their jeans and put it on, sighing out of relief.
Even though, yes, today was a very hot and sunshiney day, Purple wasn't used to the light, especially that intense. In their home, they have the curtains as opaque and covering as possible, and the lamps as dim (and preferably turned off) as they can be. The only light Purple really experiences everyday is the television, replaying the Roman Holiday DVD they got from a thrift store a while back.
Making their way to the grocery store, they tried to avoid any social interactions as much as possible. Although receiving a few 'good morning's and an odd 'top of the morning to you!', Purple refused to acknowledge them. Yes, it made them seem like an anti-social freak, as further evidenced by their sunglasses and burgundy hoodie zipped all the way up, hooded, but they didn't seem to mind. It's important to not care what others think of you, or that's what the one of many (and I mean, many) books they own claims to say. While Purple does spend their time rewatching the same movie over and over again, they do also like to read. One of their favourite books is the special Beginner's Guide to Greek Mythology. Purple does refuse to get the Advanced Guide, however.
Another thing Purple likes to do to avoid talking with the people passing by them on the sidewalk is to look into the shops on their right's window display. One of their favourite displays they saw was a toy shop with two teddy bears hugging each other. One bear was purple and the other was red — they have no clue what that's meant to symbolize.
Still looking into the displays, Purple noticed a tiny little yellow fish, swimming around its similarly tiny bowl in a shop's window. Eyes widened and jaw a little bit opened; they were captivated.
It was moving around effortlessly, without a care in the world. Purple adored it, although, had this sickening feeling in their gut. They tried to pinpoint it but couldn't figure out what it was.
A beautiful melodic bell rang as they entered the shop, approaching the clerk at the cashier.
"How much for the fish in the window?"
"Ah, that fish is a new addition. Came in yesterday," The clerk smirked, glancing over to admire the fish who was still swimming around. "It's a hundred beans and five stars."
Purple knew they had enough but they understood they were willing to sacrifice all the money they had for a small aquatic creature. A small, elegant, graceful, wonderful aquatic creature.
They patted their pockets, looking for the indent of their wallet. Soon, the realization hit them: they had left it at home. They even recalled the exact moment they put it down on the table.
Explaining their situation to the clerk, they rushed outside, hearing the jingle melody of the bell again. They sprinted down the path, carefully dodging the passerbys. In their mind, they stressed. What if when they come back, the fish has already been bought and taken away forever? The fish was a new addition, maybe so many other people flock to get it. Its beauty and grace was surely to be envied by everyone else.
Nearly slamming into the front entrance of their building, they went in. Sweating in anticipation and anxiety, they trembled as they waited to go up to their floor.
Once the elevator stopped, they bolted to their door and unlocked it, stepping on the letter they threw inside once again.
Purple stared at the living area, cluttered with mess and whatnot. Deciding that they needed to find their wallet soon and prepare the space for their new fish, they got garbage bags and started tidying up. This bag is for recyclables, this bag is for not recylcable trash, and this bag is for dishes, they planned as they picked up the litter sprinkled everywhere. Every now and then, they'd glance at their empty countertop and imagined a fish bowl placed there. That was what encouraged them.
Soon, they were finished and admired the clean space around them. They spotted the wallet on the couch, tucked it in their pocket, and went out the door once again.
As Purple slowly approached the shop, they started to realize the fish was no longer in the window display — it now being replaced by a larger turquoise fish. Although the new fish seemed to move similarly to Purple's fish, it just wasn't the same.
Gazing at the grocery store in the distance, Purple dejectedly began to continue their journey for groceries. That was, however, before the fish shop's bell rung as the clerk hurried them inside.
Returning to his cashier stand, the clerk started rambling on how long they've been trying to get Purple's attention blah blah blah fish something blah blah blah. Purple didn't pay attention; they were too sad to care.
But something made an appearance that immediately returned Purple back to the moment. And no, it wasn't anything the clerk said. It was the fish bowl on the countertop with their fish moving around just as graciously as before.
"Is that-?" Purple pointed at the fish, who stopped to look at them.
"That's what I've been telling you! Since I'm so considerate, I unofficially reserved him for you. And…" The clerk picked up a large paper bag and handed it to Purple. "Here's his food for a month and a bit of bowl cleaning supplies."
Deducing from the clerk's nervous look and their constant glancing over at the Staff Only door, Purple assumed the food and cleaning supplies aren't usually free for customers.
They handed the money over, feeling numb over seeing an empty wallet. That empty feeling was furthered by the grumbling of their hungry stomach. Carrying the fish bowl in one hand, they gripped on the paper bag in the other and left the shop, hearing that bell once more.
As they made their way back home, Purple couldn't help but think: was this impulsive decision to buy a fish worth a month's groceries? They knew they barely had anything in the fridge and yet, the fish bowl was still in their hand.
It's okay, they thought. I can always eat the fish.
Even though it was meant to be a joke, it still disturbed them.
As they drew closer and closer to their apartment building, they came to a realization. Purple wouldn't be able to provide for the fish once its food was done. Was that the sickening feeling in their stomach that started the second they handed over the money?
Going up the elevator, they contemplated. It was selfish to steal the fish from a potential more caring customer. There definitely was a universe where it was happier and had a longer life; it certainly wasn't this universe.
Purple placed the fish bowl on their very small, definitely-only-for-one-person dining table once they reached their apartment. The fish had stopped swimming and decided to look at its new owner. Purple looked back.
Picking up the crumpled, dirtied, and stepped on multiple times envelope on the floor; they decided to read.
Dear Purps Purple,
I know we haven't talked in a while but you were the first person to come to mind.
My superiors at Mira has requested a few back and forth trips from Polus to the HQ and unfortunately, our designated security guard has gone MIA. I was wondering if you'd like to fill in that role haha? It's paid, since I know you'd care about that.
OK thank you for reading maybe,
Red, your friend your former coworker.
Crunching the piece of paper into a ball, Purple threw it at the wall. "What did Red think I was gonna do? Immediately rush into their arms, forgiving them and accepting this stupid role that was definitely only given out of pity?"
'Blub blub blub.' The fish responded.
"Thanks- errr.. I still don't know your name." Purple surveyed the room, figuring out a name for their new friend. Their eyes landed on their Greek Mythology book, laid down on the coffee table. "Y'know, my favourite Greek hero is Heracles and it seems you saved me. Heracles is a good name, right?"
'Blub.'
"Heracles," Purple leaned forward to be eye-to-eye with him. "I'm sorry I can't provide enough food for you. I just don't have the money-"
'Blub.'
"Uhh, I guess you're right. Red's job does pay. But what am I gonna do without you? I also don't know what this job entails."
'Blub.'
"That's not a bad idea. I could secretly bring you along the trip. Who's gotta know?"
'Blub.'
Purple grinned, taking a pen and paper to start writing to Red.