Remember when 24 hours actually seemed like a long time? Well, nowadays 24 hours ain't shit. So spending all night in this Union City parking lot waiting for the pet shop to open didn't really seem too tedious. I always slept really well in my truck anyway, and the AM radio lulled me to rest easily throughout the rainy night.

Who would have thought this pet shop would be closed on the weekend? I drove 400 miles from Humboldt just to find out that its business hours didn't include yesterday's rainy Sunday.

But, boy, what a sunny Monday this has turned out to be! The sun always feels best in autumn after a cool rain swept through. The rays reach into my truck this morning and touch the lashes of my rested eyes, while outside, the ground starts to smell wet-dry as it warms up with the rising daystar. I find a ketchup packet in the glove box and slurp down its contents. Now if only I could find a packet of Taco Bell sauce, my breakfast would be complete.

Okay, the sign says that the shop opens at 10 a.m. It is damn near 10:30 and still nobody there. Next door the Papa Murphy's is already open - pizza flippers have been on the clock for a while now. But where is she? She should have been here by now feeding those poor little reptiles and gerbils their breakfast. Pets need breakfast too, don't they? Don't the fish need their tanks cleaned? Who will change the birds' shit-covered cage paper?

Oh, but wait a second, there she is now, strolling up to the store... just how I remember her. Tasty-looking caramel face with wavy hair draping the sides of her Latina features. Tall, almost lanky, with comfortable jeans that bell out just a little at the bottom. A tiny-framed girl of Aztlan with perfect perkulations poking through her thinly woven autumn sweater. Her cheeks sag just a bit on her face, tugging on a fighting warm smile this sunny Monday morning. And her button nose is pierced with a stud so tiny, only those who have leaned in close to kiss her have seen it.

She's hot. But not hot like you want to have sex with her. She's hot like you want to just embrace her forever because she looks too damn pretty for hot, dirty sex..

She unlocks the door to the pet shop with her key, enters, and flips the "CLOSED" sign to "OPEN." Fluorescent lights flicker and then activate inside with the animals.

It is time.

I have waited all year to see her once again, and there she is in my eyeshot, pouring birdseed into the cages that grace the pet shop window. I gather my nuts and swallow my apprehension. I pull the keys out of the ignition, killing the Seals & Croft song on the radio. She is a girl, and I am a guy. This should work.

I'm startled by the stupid-ass door chimes as I make my way into her shop. My heart sweats, and I taste that nervous metal sensation in my mouth. I walk into the store where she greets me with a soft nod and a beautiful, gentle smile.

"Hola, can I help-a you?"

Huh? She is talking to me, in sexy broken English, but oh my God, she is looking at me. How the hell can she help-a me? Think quick.

"Uhhhh, I would like to buy a fish."

"Pesca? Que clase?"

I have no idea what she said, but they were the most beautiful words ever spoken to me. A chill hit the back of my neck and head as her accent vibrated the tiny hair-receptors in my eardrums. I point my shaky arm to a random aquarium on the left.

"Which-a one?" she asks ethnically as she walks over.

"Uhhhh, that gold one right there, what's that one called?"

"Como se dice... ummm... goldfish" she says as she turns her immaculate face toward my general direction.

"Perfect, I'll take it."

She smells just like my little sister's Strawberry Shortcake doll used to when I was 5. I hover over her aroma as she scoops my golden little fish with that green net from the dingy-ass brackish water. She nets him like I wish it was me, and puts him in a big baggie of sorts. She twists the baggie and ties the top with a beautiful knot that only her nimble fingers can tie in such a lovely way. I stare into her eyes for some time, but she doesn't seem to notice.

My love hums a ho-hum song as she makes her way over to the register to punch in my fishy purchase.

"One dollar, por favor."

I reach into my pocket and pull out some change. Tell her, you idiot. Tell her you love her. Tell her that she is the most beautiful thing you've ever laid eyes on. Tell her what you've imagined - that she feels better than sweetened warm butter on your tongue and fingertips. Tell her how you used to work at Wal-Mart with her and how you drove 400 fucking miles to see her, and speak to her. Tell her... just tell her. TELL HER...

"Hey, you used to work at Wal-Mart, didn't you?"

"Wal-Mart... si. " she says.

"Perhaps you remember me from there."

"Que?"

My mind took me back to Spanish class in 10th grade. "You know... Yo trabajar at Wal-Mart tambien," I say to her with no clue whatsoever.

"Ahh..." she sounds confused. But now was my chance. She didn't speak too much English, so maybe I could benefit from that. I try to speak my best Spanglish.

"Senorita, would you like to go out with me sometime?"

"Ahhhhh." She chuckles with a smile. She understands what I asked. She must get asked out a lot, because she clearly understands my damn proposal. I nervously swallow the mere dryness of my throat as I wait for her answer.

"Married," she says softly and in perfect English. She puts her hand up to me and points to a ring on her finger.

My heart sinks like a rock in the pond of my innards. I swallow the cry-mucous that builds up behind my nasal cavity. "Oh..." is my only pitiful response.

I count out some pocket change to create a dollar and pay for my sonuvabitch fish. I give her the money, and take back my soul. She hands me a receipt and the big baggie with the fish.

"Gracias."

I look at her once more, smiling. She smiles back with a sensual glow, you know, the simple kind that creates the craving for her in the hearts of men like me. I take my fish and exit the store, chin to my chest, and my posture hunched. The door chime rings out as I exit, and I don't mind it as much this time.

Walking back to my truck, I come across a pebbled-cement garbage can. I untie the beautiful knot on the big fish baggie and pour that little gold bastard in the trash. I watch him flop around on some discarded fast-food wrappers and gasp for air through his burning red gills. What the hell am I gonna do with a goldfish? I leave him there.

I toss the baggie in any random direction and pull out my keys from my pocket. I get in my truck and hit the AM radio, turning it up full blast, trying to drown out the sound of my tears hitting the dash and steering wheel. Skirting out of the parking lot, I start my long drive back to Humboldt.

It begins to rain again. And the hours pass like days all the way home.