Kikuko giggled a little. Her earlier nervousness seemed to have returned to her.

My father did not speak for several minutes. Finally he said:

 

'It must feel strange for you, being back in Japan.'

 

'Yes, it is a little strange.'

 

'Already, perhaps, you regret leaving America.'

 

'A little. Not so much. I didn't leave behind much. Just some empty rooms.'

 

'I see.'

 

I glanced across the table. My father's face looked stony and forbidding in the

half-light. We ate on in silence.

 

Then my eye caught something at the back of the room. At first I continued

eating, then my hands became still. The others noticed and looked at me. I went

on gazing into the darkness past my father's shoulder.

 

'Who is that? In that photograph there?'

 

'Which photograph?' My father turned slightly, trying to follow my gaze.

 

'The lowest one. The old woman in the white kimono.'