The counter at Shiki was always, for some reason, a bit greasy, and he wondered why they didn’t give it the same scrubbing attention they gave the preparation surface, just the other side of the glass.

At the same time as ordering jalapeño yellowtail sashimi with ponzu sauce, and halibut sashimi, and some cooked yellowtail collar, he ordered, of course, a large Asahi beer, and some sake. Fashion has changed, it used to be always served hot, but now as the appreciation of the finer sakes has increased, cold is the order of the fashion aware. Ever didn’t count himself as one of those, and ordered it hot.

He also asked for a pen and paper.

If you pour the sake in the beer it is a faster high, but tonight he wanted to stay calm and sober. He was grateful for the calm, that the terror had decreased, that he could see and feel and sense, in his way, his concept of what he knew to be normal. The food was being prepared, something he always enjoyed, like a theatrical experience, to watch, having ordered the two dishes from the chef, the drinks and collar, being a hot dish, from the waitress. That was the tradition, although his collar order was passed immediately to the chef. Who cooked it in a little Belling-type electric grill. Simple, basic, but produces nectar. He was feeling a little more himself now, a little more of the soul he recognised was returning to his body. And after the first intake of beer, having asked the waitress if she wouldn’t mind pouring his sake, which of course she understood, it was considered bad luck to pour your own, at least he was told that once and had stuck to it, he ordered a beer for the chef and started to write.

Dear Lomita,