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[Pixabay](https://pixabay.com/photos/search/retired%20gold%20fish/)
The retired goldfish stopped swimming frantically in circles. Like someone who had seen enough glass walls for one lifetime, he now moved slowly. He once moved away from tapping fingers like hurricanes & chased flakes like they were prizes. He drifted now with a silent wisdom, near the bowl's edge where the light diminished.
Three castles, two fake plants, and the boisterous blue gravel stage he had outlived. Though the world outside the glass had changed several faces, he stayed, a little orange observer of human turmoil. For him, retirement was not about quitting. It was about choosing silence. Almost not verifying speed anymore.
He occasionally would rise slowly to the surface for air and perspective rather than for food. His silence had great force. The retired goldfish knew something the others in the room did not: Its own success is survival; peace is the highest prize.