No Longer Human ( PDFDrive )

79
start that the person opposite me looked like the
old man from the sushi stall. Now, when her name
and even her face are fading from my memory, for me
to be able to remember that old man's face so
accurately I could draw it, is surely a proof of how
bad the sushi was and how it chilled and distressed
me. I should add that even when I have been taken
to restaurants famous for sushi I have never enjoyed
it much.
Tsuneko was living in a room she rented on the
second floor of a carpenter's house. I lay on the floor
sipping tea, propping my cheek with one hand as if I
had a horrible toothache. I took no pains to hide my
habitual gloom. Oddly enough, she seemed to like
seeing me lie there that way. She gave me the
impression of standing completely isolated; an icy
storm whipped around her, leaving only dead leaves
careening wildly down.
As we lay there together, she told me that she
was two years older than I, and that she came from
Hiroshima. "I've got a husband, you know. He used
to be a barber in Hiroshima, but we ran away to
Tokyo together at the end of last year. My husband
couldn't find a decent job in Tokyo. The next thing I
knew he was picked up for swindling someone, and
now he's in jail. I've been going to the prison every
day, but beginning tomorrow I'm not going any more."