empty

In October, a new grocery store opened up in my neighborhood. Today, I went by, and half of its shelves were empty, seemingly in preparation for closing. I walked around inside to see what was left. Boxes of oranges, some growing moldy. Dusty bags of rice. Tubs of tofu, set to expire in two days.

I have known for weeks and months now that the economy is bad. I see it everyday in the anxiety of all my friends who work in the corporate world, in the struggles of my parents to keep their business afloat, in the news, on the radio, everywhere. But something about that store struck me in a way that these other things haven't. Maybe because there was an actual physical manifestation of emptiness. Piled up goods next to empty refrigerators. Three cars in a fifty-car parking lot. One cashier among eight cash registers. A "grand opening" sign hanging off a shelf holding nothing.

Whatever the reason, it was a sad spectacle. It's always sad to see a business fail, but worse when you saw it open too. No one wants to be a witness to a dream coming true only to see it destroyed in a matter of months.