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Your slim brown hands which don’t yet wear a wedding band use chopsticks to turn the mackerel in its criss-crossed silver coat studded with sea salt. The oily white flesh tastes like kipper only different. This is Yumigahama and we’re here to show Sally the best of Japan. She and I swim then listen to you talk about our far-off foreign faces bobbing on the waves. Sally’s like a Fifties movie star, you say, her blue eyes and boyish hair. I don’t yet know that our child will be a boy, that we’ll call him Ryoma — Dragon Horse, and that I’ll adore his slim brown hands. Alex Corrin-Tachibana First published in Tears in the Fence Autumn 2020
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