The corner store

I went back to my old neighborhood, and got the surprise of finding them carrying out the furniture from the old grocery store, "Los Gallegos." I remembered my childhood, when my mother used to send me to don José's store, she'd give me a notebook with black covers because she was afraid I'd lose the money or get robbed. In those days don José sold a lot on credit, so everyone bought and paid at the start of the month when they got paid, no papers were signed and a person's word had value. People honored the commitments they made.

I remembered the cabinet with drawers that had glass fronts so you could see what was inside, which were noodles of different shapes and sizes, he'd scoop them out with a little shovel and put them in a little brown paper bag. I liked going because don José would call me pretty and give me a candy. It moved me that he called me pretty because I felt ugly.

The whole neighborhood shopped there until the supermarket showed up and the best customers left, only the ones who bought with the notebook stayed on, don José got sick and sold the store, by then I didn't live there anymore.

Watching them take everything apart there was a teenager from the neighborhood who exclaimed, these are things from Methuselah's time, they should be taken to a museum. I thought, we'll be museum pieces too, one day.

This story is a tribute to the shopkeepers that progress buried.