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"
I
don
’
t
need
the
plate
.
"
"
I
’
m
sorry
?
"
"
That
thing
you
’
re
holding
in
your
left
hand
.
Yeah
,
the
bucket
.
I
’
ll
take
all
of
them
.
"
"
Um
,
people
don
’
t
usually
eat
that
many
at
once
,
"
Rachel
said
.
"
That
a
problem
?
"
"
No
,
I
suppose
not
-
"
"
Thanks
for
your
help
.
"
Bucket
in
hand
,
Rita
walked
back
triumphantly
.
She
thunked
it
down
in
the
middle
of
the
table
right
in
front
of
me
.
The
container
was
about
thirty
centimeters
across
at
the
mouth
-
a
tub
big
enough
to
serve
about
two
hundred
men
,
since
nobody
ever
wanted
more
than
one
-
packed
halfway
to
the
top
with
bright
red
umeboshi
.
Big
enough
to
drown
a
small
cat
.
The
base
of
my
tongue
started
to
ache
just
looking
at
it
.
Rita
went
for
her
chopsticks
.
She
singled
out
one
of
the
wrinkled
,
reddish
fruit
from
the
bucket
and
popped
it
into
her
mouth
.
She
chewed
.
She
swallowed
.
Out
came
the
pit
.
