The shop is closed for two years now. ‘For sale’, the sign in the window reads. Empty, only a counter in the back. I glance through the windows every time I pass it. Not much to see, except for a growing pile of advertising leaflets and local papers.
This morning a man was sitting behind the counter. He must have taken his own chair with him, the rest of the shop was still empty. The man swivelled round in his chair, his eyes shut, and a smile on his face.
I walked on, passing the ‘Sold’ sign, wondering if the man had been the new owner, visualising a crowded shop. Or the real estate agent, thinking about his commission…
