There's a sardine lurking in my fridge...

Sardines make me dry reach.

Opening a can, the oily fish stench almost overwhelms me.

I lever one out with a fork, silvery skin shimmering in the light.
My fork trembles slightly as I raise the fish from the can. The resultant wriggling makes the fish appear alive and my stomach turns in knots.

The fish suddenly breaks apart, one part slipping onto the bench with the remainder hanging onto my fork.

My eyes open wide. Hanging from the flesh on my fork is a spinal cord. THE FISH STILL HAS BONES!

I shudder.

I can not eat this now. I don't know if I will ever be able to eat it, so I place the remaining sardines in a bowl, cover it and place it in the fridge.

I can't stop thinking about it. It is the same feeling as when a giant hairy spider flees into a crevice out of your reach. You know it is there. You know you will have to face it again soon, but you wish that it would just go away. Until the issue is resolved, the thought of it will linger in your mind.

...and so the Sardine lingers.