The horse pill mocks me from the counter while my husband demonstrates, tossing back M&Ms with theatrical head-tilts. "Pretend it's candy." I mime gagging, remembering how my childhood goldfish choked on a food pellet, floating belly-up while I screamed into the fishbowl. Ted pops another M&M and says what he always says. "You know those fish died from ammonia buildup." I stare at the gigantic tablet, wondering if my throat holds similar toxic potential, when Mr. Giggles leaps onto the counter and swallows it whole. Lesson learned about leaving things unattended, though I swear the cat winked at me.
Tiffany Harris is a writer whose work appears in Buckman Journal and Black Glass Pages, and was Highly Commended by the Bath Flash Fiction Award.