It all started when I woke with a wriggling cod on my cold belly skin. “It’s not serious,” explained the doctor standing with a pointer by the wall, where a diagram displayed the anatomical details of a fish skeleton, still with its head and tail. He had no way of knowing, of course, that that’s how it was when I lay on the white plate in the seafood restaurant. Filled and content, the fat man sat with his napkin tucked into his shirt, and there I was on his plate. There were no other guests, only two waiters, who stood in the back of the restaurant, taking turns sneezing, because of pepper in their noses.