The fish had not fitted in the box.
Tavin discovered this at the old workshop corner, where a man sat on an overturned stool with the painted sign across his knees. His daughter had wrapped its enormous tail in sacking. The bowl and the little head remained visible.
“Can it go with us?” the man asked.
“If you can carry it without blocking the approach.”
“We can,” the daughter said.
“He asked me.”
“You were going to say we couldn’t.”
“I was going to ask about the freight.”
