Arctic Charr

On the day that I order a dozen Arctic Charr my freezer starts making an odd whirring noise.

The day I take delivery, the freezer packs in altogether. My plan to collect fish in the freezer is in tatters.

I act quickly, setting aside one Charr. I plan to cook it in a Marseilles L'Omble Chevalier sauce.

I pick up the remaining eleven and put them in my coat pockets. As I step out into the chill night, a million stars burn brightly above me. I take a fish from my overcoat and give it to the first neighbour. I repeat this ten more times. 

Each neighbour accepts their fish wordlessly and stares briefly into the glassy, dead eyes. Before closing the door leaving me alone once more in the night.