The very final day of a small sushi restaurant.

 About a week before, I’ve got a text message from my friend, regrettably informing me of the closing down my favorite sushi restaurant. “It was going to be next Friday” she mentioned sadly.
 So I decided then and there that I was going to this small sushi restaurant where a friend of mine running alone.

Opening a heavy darkish wooden door, I felt as if I came across another world. It was dark inside, so dark that I couldn’t even see the way to the table.
 Seeing my old friend cooking sushi behind the counter, I remember so many things across my heart. It was five years ago when I first came here. And seemingly, not a thing has changed ever since: The traditional style interior, two small spot lights barely shine the counter, rectangle dishes piled up and bottle of sake stored in shelf...All the same, except the fact that it was the last day of the restaurant, and for me, I divorced during this five years.
 As the fifty something chef recognized me, he put smile on his face, asking me to sit back one of eight chairs. I nodded and did what he had asked for.

 I know there are so many reasonable fine sushi restaurants not only in Tokyo, but also across the globe. And nobody can stop the recent casual trend for sushi. We never get tired of finding a nice one with fancy website, a variety of set menu with sophisticated photographs and so on. Compare to those, his restaurant was too old-style without any website, too ambiguous when it comes to the price. And yet I couldn’t help but missing his restaurant. Coming to his restaurant repeatedly, I learned how foods can turn to be soft and beautiful under indirect light, which I implemented to my home-party in recent years.

 After finish eating, I vowed his, then asked if he could give some dish and plate. He gently nod, told me to come back a week later.

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