A normal fish has a good memory enough to remember all the stories from birth to death. But my memory is only seven seconds.

But I have a fish that loves me. He will catch small fish and shrimp for me to eat and spit bubbles to make me happy. Whenever I have amnesia and ask who he is, he always answers me patiently and affectionately: he is a fish that loves me.

I don't know how long he will love me, nor when he will disappear, but I like to immerse myself in these seven seconds of happiness. After all, countless seven seconds add up to eternity.

But he left anyway.

So I began to wander in disappointment and learned to distinguish between edible fish and shrimp again. I said I wasn't looking for him because I didn't remember him at all. I just feel lost for no reason.

Then I bit the hook, and the little foam box was full of fish, and then I saw him.

I asked, who are you?

He smiled and said, I am a fish that loves you.

I am a fish, and my memory is only seven seconds.

-this is the conclusion that I lay in the anatomy laboratory and humans came to.