Choice

“Are you sure? You had better be sure you’re sure.”
“I’m surely a surly girl, sir.”
“Enough sass! Answer the question already.”
I squirmed in my seat for the first time. “Fine. Take the goldfish.”
The robber laughed like a seven-year old playing tag and carefully lifted Arnold’s bowl from the nightstand.
As he left, he said cheerfully, “Maybe your nest egg’ll hatch into a replacement pet!”
I sighed and wondered what kind of person thought that robbing was only fun if the victim was forced to choose between their favorite pet and the money they had in the house.