Sunday Sushi

Every Sunday afternoon, I walk down to Hiroo, often with Pippi and Mom or Dad. While my parents are busy at the supermarket, I always walk down Hiroo-shotengai (Hiroo shopping street) to a little sushi shop. Every week, without fail, I buy two packs of kappa maki (cucumber rolls), one for dinner, and one for my lunch the next day.

The shop I go to is just a tiny little store front. There is no door and there are no walls between it and the sidewalk. Just simply a glass case filled with packs of sushi, behind that, a cash register, and even further back, a window through which a man making sushi is visible. Every Sunday, I walk up to the glass case, remove two boxes of kappa maki, and place them on the counter with my Y400. The person at the register puts my sushi into a plastic bag and asks me if I want chopsticks. To this, I reply no and just use what I have at home. I am then asked if I want shoyu (soy sauce). I of course answer yes to this every time: last week, this week, next week.