The fish had only just stopped moving.

The fish had only just stopped moving.
It's gaping mouth lay open, and an eye pointed in the direction of the sky. The scales on its belly shimmered rainbow-like in the mid-afternoon sun, each one like a single newly polished salver. The fish was lying in a shallow pool of water on a wooden chair in the back yard. I was standing above it thinking how beautiful it looked, and wished I'd had a camera to hand. The chair was a low-legged one, and had a simple straight back that made sitting on it far from comfortable. That being said, I regularly enjoyed being seated in this chair with its back leaning against the oak tree. I would sit in this position for hours in the shade under the tree when it was warm, reading the paper or just watching planes traverse across the sky.
I had no idea how the fish had gotten there. I wasn't even sure of the type of fish it was, not being any more familiar with dead fish than the average person. Not being happy with this resolution, I nevertheless decided that it was a kipper. There was a cat that lived in the neighbourhood that could have been responsible for bringing it here, but I couldn't make out any visible marks on the fish that a cat could have made in transferring it from its previous lodging to its present place of rest. The fact that it had been half alive when I had first found it made me think otherwise, too. Although the chair was still underneath the oak tree, I wasn't happy with the possibility that the fish had fallen out of it. Fish don't grow on trees, and they very rarely fall out of them. I decided conclusively that it was brought to me as a gift, and I needn't ask any more questions. I picked up the dead fish and made my way through the yard and into the kitchen door to make smoked kippers for lunch.