Alicia Nicole

The General Store

The whir of the fan, its plastic tassels slapping against one another, a metallic cicada, mimicking the humid summer sounds just outside the dingy windows. “The General Store” sat in the middle of the sidewalk with faded paint and sagging shudders, a small plaque rusted almost beyond recognition read “EST. 1915.” A small photo collage, yellowed with age, hung behind the counter. Faces of the past crowded together smiling in front of what was once the only store in town, now an antique shop just as forgotten as its contents. The current owner hadn’t felt the need to come up with a new name, so the general store became “The General Store”.