For class

Corner Store

            Years ago, construction workers began to remodel an abandoned building two blocks from my home. No one knew why these men were taking months to fix the building that had been abandoned for so long. Everyone wondered what would be constructed in the emptiness that could be seen through the remodeled windows. The walls were white and rubble lay on the floor. Close to a year passed and a family from the Dominican Republic arrived in a black minivan. They carried various supplies through the glass door with black bars. When they carried candy up the four steps into the store curious neighbors thought it was a candy store. When they carried office supplies others wondered if it was a store like Staples. When they carried dolls and board games, was it a toy store? No one was sure what would take the place of the abandoned building. No sign gave a clue. Not even the sign on the door that read OPEN with the hours printed in black marker was able to let the curious neighbors know the type of store.

When the family emptied the minivan of the supplies, the man, and the woman talked for close to five minutes before the man slowly turned around and closed the door with black bars. Nosy little kids jumped back. The man’s gaze was haunting, frightening. What kind of store was this?

The store was the only store on the block and in that corner. Residential houses surrounded it from both sides. To the left, there was a small two-story house with a big front lawn, a lawn larger than the rest. To the right stood another two story house with no lawn at all and black stairs. Compared to the surrounding houses, the store was bright in color. Its walls were painted bright blue and a large white rectangle took the place of where the sign with the store’s name should be. The large front window held the most intriguing poster around. The poster did not picture any distinct figure, but it did make use of various colors that formed an abstract painting. It was as if Salvador Dali had painted the poster himself. Totally open for interpretation.

On the day that the store opened, passersby walked hesitantly into the store. They did not know what to expect after they crossed the door. Upon entering the store, the owner, a woman in her mid-forties, would greet everyone, “Hello! Welcome to my store where you can find anything imaginable. Think of the most difficult thing to find and you will most definitely find it here.”

When a small boy heard this he said, “Will I find a rock from the Himalayas?”

“Most definitely yes!” the store owner discreetly winked at the boy as she pointed to a corner. “Go on. Find the rock.” The boy ran to where she pointed. Minutes later, he came back with a rock in his hand.

“Is this it?” he asked, “The rock from the Himalayas?”

The woman reached for the rock and held it in her hands, “Why yes it is. Indeed it is.”

“Really?” asked the boy as he jumped up, “Is it really?”

“Yes,” the woman leaned toward the boy, “Do you want to buy it?”

“Yeah, I do! I do!”

“It will be one dollar,” the woman said casually. The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled dollar bill. They exchanged a dollar bill for rock and rock for a dollar bill.

The boy quickly ran out of the dollar store and showed it to his friends. “Guys, I’m taking it to show and tell tomorrow! Do you think everyone will believe me when I say that I traveled to the Himalayas over night?”

His friends shrugged and they walked toward the house with no lawn while they admired the rock the boy held in his hands. Soon everyone knew that the store was a dollar store, both surprising and magical with its diverse merchandise. It became the go-to place after school. Students would buy candy and ice cream. They would add another deck of cards to their Pokémon collection and buy a pair of shoes for every day of the week. Little kids would ask for water from Niagara Falls, fur from the Abominable snowman, and dragon eggs that would not hatch. Mothers would buy last minute cheese or milk for dinner and ask for fairies to help with house chores. All of these were sold by the woman in her mid-forties for one dollar. Soon she knew almost everyone by name.

            “Hello Alberto, Miguel, Aurora, Laura!” she would say to those who entered the store. Along the four halls that made up this dollar store, there were widgets and gadgets. The candy at the front desk ranged from Skittles to milk, coconut, tamarind, and mango flavored candy from México. There were party favors and balloons at the back of the store along with empty shelves on which objects would appear when no one was looking. Pots and pans sat on the top shelves like boulders ready to fall on patrons. There was something about this dollar store that made it the place to be. However, no one could pinpoint exactly what lured them in. Could it be the nice owner or the endless objects that people could ask for and buy for one dollar?

After a while, an extensive line flowed out of the front door, down the four stairs, into the sidewalk, and past the dull house with the large lawn. The store was so full of customers that the woman in her forties had to hire her nephew to help run the place. He was the epitome of handsome. All the girls would talk about him while they waited in line.

“Have you seen his eyes?” said Maritza as she gasped, “They’re like almonds!”

“Yeah, and he’s tall!” squeaked Maritza’s friend, Guadalupe. Further down the line a group of girls brainstormed what they were going to buy. They would ask for the most outrageous requests if whatever it was that they wanted did not already exist in the dollar store.

“I want a unicorn,” said Lucy.

“Hmmm…. I’ve always wanted to ask for a trip to Japan. Do you think it’s possible?” asked Miranda.

“I don’t think so. Have you never read the small sign on the front counter? It reads “We can only bring you here, but never take you there, so don’t you dare just beware,” said Lucy as she lifted her eyelids.

“No, I haven’t.”

“I know why. You’re always looking at the forty year old woman’s nephew.” Lucy slightly pushed Maritza to the side.

            Conversations like these could be heard if someone walked from the front to back of the line. Boys would talk about what they would ask for next.

            “You know what I’m getting this time?” Emmanuel said to his friends.

            “What?” they would answer in chorus.

            Emmanuel placed his arms far apart and formed a big circle. “A big block of cheese!”

            “Pfftt…. You can do better than that,” his friends replied. They walked several steps forward. The line was moving faster. To someone not from the neighborhood, this dollar store was like other dollar stores; a place to buy anything with one dollar. To someone from the neighborhood, the dollar store had become a first choice for the essential and extravagant things in life. It was the pillar that enabled mothers and fathers to walk one or two blocks to purchase something in a jiffy. It was one of those places that would leave many stories to tell. A young adult would say to their grandchildren in thirty years, “Do you want to hear a story about a dollar store that way a part of my childhood?” The grandchildren would respond, “A dollar store? That’s boring.”

            “Ahhh…. But this was a magical dollar store filled with bewilderment!” the grandparent would respond.

            “Magical? Dollar store? Okay, grandpa, grandma! Tell us! We want to know!” the grandchildren would say as they cuddled on the floor.

“Well, this dollar store opened my mind to the world of magic, witches, abstract ideas, and the impossible.” The grandparent would recount the many adventures held in that dollar store, the objects they asked for, and how their life was never the same after the dollar store was closed unexpectedly one day.

            “Can we build our own dollar store like the one of your childhood?”

            “Well,” the grandparents would say, “The things is that the dollar store was unique. The owners were different. How different? I don’t know. Different enough to turn a simple dollar store into something else.”

            The grandchildren would glare at their grandparents and say, “Awww man…. That’s not fair.”

            “Life’s not always fair my little children. Life is not always fair.”