Stomachs on legs are proud to present

Oh, single anchovy from Fenix on the Plaza las Flores in Murcia, Spain. We did not suspect when we ordered your kind, that a solo fish would meet its fate on a plate in front of us.
Your brothers and sisters joined us too, draped over crackers with mounds of russian salad on top, so the anchoviness suffered no respite. And despite a lack of tomato-smeared bread - to my clara-addled mind, an anchovy's most heavenly resting place - your right to be eaten was not forsook.
Now that I know I can order a single anchovy, garnished absently mindedly with a squeeze of lemon, I'll sleep easily at night. God bless all those single anchovies, whose fate was formerly uncertain.