Catania, Sicily

The market opened with the clatter of knives and gulls. Crates of anchovies and sea bass glistened in the first light. Salt, blood, and sea filled the air.

Men dragged swordfish across wet stone. A cleaver fell. Flesh thudded.

Others gutted sea bass and scraped scales. A radio played. Someone laughed. The market smelled of salt, cold metal, and something older—maybe the sea, or its memory.

Among the fillets, a head rested, facing outward. The eye was huge, glassy, and accusatory.

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