Those Who Mourn
written by: Zary Fekete
The sign at the entrance said THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATRONAGE, printed with black marker. Leonard unlocked the door. No point in changing routines yet…still his place for at least one more day.
A scent in the air was of flour and yeast. The bakery’s counter and display were spotless with empty shelves behind the glass, waiting for whatever the new owner would sell. The steel cash register was on the floor by the utility closet with the power cord wrapped around it like a comforting arm.
Leonard closed the door behind him, and the welcome bell jingled in the stillness. He slowly walked through the room, adjusting chairs, flicking flecks of dust from table tops. He grabbed the broom and turned to look at the old store. Not bad for forty-two years, he thought. He smiled as he caught himself…And that’s just my tenure…never mind Dad and Grandpa before me.
He passed his hand over the wooden counter, worn smooth by years of neighbors sitting side by side. Thousands of hellos and goodbyes. It felt like just another day, even though it was the last one. The morning light slanting through the window slowly crept across the floor.
Leonard glanced up and saw someone outside, a woman who reached out to try opening the locked door. She had a grocery bag in her other hand. He stepped to the entry and opened the door. “Sorry,” he said. “We’re closed.”
She nodded. “I know.” He waited, eyebrows raised. She tapped the grocery bag. “Muffins. Thought you might not be baking today.”
Leonard scratched his head. He had expected to spend the day alone, no gifts or flowers…definitely not store-bought pastries from a patron he hardly knew. But some habits die hard. He gestured her in and stepped back. She put the bag down on the counter and then grabbed a second broom without waiting to ask.
Side by side, they swept the floor. Nothing grand. No music in the air. Just faint shuffles of feet and bristles against floorboards. Finally, Leonard glanced around. The old bakery was spotless and ready for its new role.
The woman reached into the bag and pulled out a muffin, flicking out a napkin with it, and placing it down before Leonard. She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Thank you,” she said and then left, with the bell jingling behind her.
Leonard stared at the muffin for a while. The light brightened around him, and he realized the day might not just be about an ending. It might be about a door that’s been cracked open. He broke the muffin in half and ate it slowly as though it were the last good thing in the world.
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