The mesquite stopped crunching beneath our feet. "We're here." But I've been following your lead for years now, star gazing at some far-off galaxy weaved in your rosette, and I thought we'd've mapped our way back by now. Though here we are, halfway across this exhausted field. You flick your eyes up to the sky, "They should be there." "You sure?" "Look, andromeda is there-- and Cetus" "But where are the fish?"

Our eyes scrape the eigengrau veil and find nothing. The fish have slipped away in their nebulous current, tumbling blindly down stream, tails locked in a perpetual knot. "Pisces is missing."

And the night felt oddly darker without them.