Never-ending Time | Short-Short

The general store on the corner of the street held the afternoon light softly.

A paper sign reading "Closing Sale" was pasted on the inside of the window.
It was slightly crooked, leaving behind the presence of the person who had put it up.

Betty pushed the door.
The bell rang modestly.

Small white plates were lined up on the shelves.
They were thin, with a texture that seemed to cling to one's fingertips.
When stacked, they made a faint sound.

She picked one up.
It was light.

She had bought a similar plate at this shop once.
Back then, still—

Betty put the plate back.
She went outside, carrying only the coldness that remained on her fingertips.

🥂

A month later.
The same street.
The same window.

"Closing Sale"

This time, deep-colored glasses were lined up.
A green that grew darker toward the bottom.
When light passed through them, they rippled slightly like water.

Betty picked one up.
The thickness of the rim was just slightly uneven.

Things like this don't have names.
But there is a reason for them.

Back then, still—

She put the glass back on the shelf.
The bell rang just a little longer than before.

🐻

Three months later.
The air had moved past one season.

"Closing Sale"

In the back of the shop, there was a wooden bear.
It was leaning slightly forward, with both hands held together.
It had no expression, only the grain of the wood remaining.
It had an air about it that made it hard to tell where it had come from.

Betty approached it.

The bear looked as if it had been there forever, and also as if it had been placed there for the first time today.
She touched it with her finger.

It was rough and slightly warm.
She had no memory of seeing such a thing in this shop.

But she couldn't say for sure that it hadn't been there.
Back then, still—

Betty let go.

The bear remained there, unchanged.
She left without buying anything.

🕰️

At night.

A LINE message arrived from Katie.


"Hasn't that shop been having a closing sale forever?"Betty stared at the screen for a while.

The white plate.

The deep green glass.
The wooden bear.
Each one was certainly different.

But they were all lingering in the same place somehow.
She didn't reply.
She thought of the general store on the corner.

The paper pasted on the window.
The closing sale, still slightly crooked.
Perhaps what that shop is selling is the closing sale itself.