One thousand pairs of shiny fish eyes stared at the west side of lower Manhattan one night.

They looked like fluorescent lights of shimmering Times Square, drowned in the water.

The moon was not even up that night so you couldn't blame it for the light.

We looked around. The police of Battery City Park were not in sight.

I stretched my arm as far as I could and immersed it into the water. The water was warm and silky.

My fingers touched one of the fish. Obeying, it stayed still while my fingers wrapped around it and took it out of the water.

-- Tell us -- we said to it, wanting to know what it was all about.

The lights of the eyes of the fish were slowly dying in the dry air. -- The mystery of the apple is being sold out to night -- the fish slowly said.

-- Hands up! Step back from the edge! -- a commanding voice shouted from the side.

It was you, the Battery City Park police jerk.

What can we say now that could make sense to you?

[sb]