SUSHI
Kura hadn’t
wanted to retire to the country, yet here they were.
Each
morning Shin sat on the wall, fishing in the pond, his temper worsening as his
efforts yielded nothing. Meanwhile Kura cleaned her spotless house, yearning
for the sticky handprints of her grandchildren.
One day
she bought a fish still gasping on the fishmonger’s slab and raced home to
throw it in the pond. Shin caught it the next day and ordered Kura to prepare
sushi, which she did with careful fingers.
A week
later she poured Shin’s ashes into the pond and returned to the city.
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Thanks to Rochelle for posting C E Ayr's lovely photo on her blog https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ from where you can follow a link to read how other members of Friday Fictioneers interpreted the prompt.
