Feeling like a complete amateur in an apron free of the stains of a seasoned fish cutter, I met the eyes of a cold, dead King salmon. Having just finished dismembering a crustacean for someone else's dinner, I debated whether I was in the mood for lunch anymore.
Before my uncle gave me a job as a cashier at this Japanese fish market, I never understood the appeal of raw fish. My request to pop over to the fish department on my day off was met with bemusement. I was assured that I would not find my experience at all to my tastes. Why would a girl who won’t eat raw fish want to hang out with a rowdy bunch of boys covered in scales, wielding knives?
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