Corner Store

They came to him for tastes of their homeland; for spices, for meat cuts, for genuine tea. He withstood grandmothers and grandfathers clucking over his unmarried status, welcomed men who drank tea and talked of nothing on his doorstep, remained wary of women who giggled in the corners of his store, and always had candy for children that ran wild through the narrow aisles and the dizzying stacks.

As his lover came down from the apartment, eyes sleepy and stubble scraping against his cheek in a good-morning kiss, he pushed away from the door to continue restocking the shelves.

 

Kalthoom Bouderdaben enjoys the freedom found in building worlds within her head that are explained through penned ink on faded pages—when able to get away from grad studies.

Photo credit: s o d a p o p

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