literature

Closing

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Literature Text

"I probably wouldn't still be in business if it wasn't for him," He told his customer, smiling to himself, "Not that I will be after today."
The customer silently accepted his change and walked towards the door, he paused, smiled and muttered a goodbye and then walked out into the street.  The bell above the door rang a goodbye and the shopkeeper smiled at the disappearing figure who would be his last customer.  He then looked down at the painting he had just sold and would have to deliver as soon as he shut the shop.  He always felt sad to part with a picture but that was how he made his living and why he had opened the shop in the first place.  He then looked over at the door, which was inviting customers in for their last chance to buy one of the much loved paintings he was selling and decided that there would be no more customers for the day and it was time to close for the last time.
He locked everything up and just about managed to fit the picture into his car.   He thought to himself about how many times he'd struggled to deliver paintings in that car and had always promised himself he would buy a new one as soon as it finally gave up on him.   Somehow, though it had manged to struggle though all the years he had owned the shop.  In that respect he felt quite a bit like the car; he'd always though he'd die before he gave up his shop but he'd struggled through and now he'd decided it was time for retirement.   It wasn't that he was too old or couldn't cope anymore, he would've used his last ounce of stregnth to keep the shop running, but he had decided it was time to spend more time with his wife.   Whilst both art and his shop had played a huge part in his life and he was convinced it was the sense of purpose that had kept him alive, his wife was more important to him than anything in the world.  He would've given her anything to make her happy and now it felt like he was giving everything.
He knew he would be happy though, dedicating his life to the one perfect thing he had managed to find in it.  He would be spending his final years living peacefully with the woman he valued more than life itself.
He felt that now the shop had come to an end he had served his purpose, learnt all life's lessons and would just wait calmly and happily for his life to come to an end.  Little did he know that infact he wasn't even aware of what life had in store for him and that the time between then and his death would change things completely.
After this he had often wondered what would've happened if he hadn't closed his shop, if he had continued to work there just the way he had always done.   At the time it had seemed like the end of everything but later he realised it was just the start.
He would rather live another year and be with her all the time than live another ten seeing her as little as he did when he was running the shop, he thought to himself as he looked back on the building which had felt like part of him for all the time he'd owned it.   She had insisted that she didn't need him at home and that he should keep the shop because she would rather see him happy at work than trying to please her, but he had told her that he'd dedicated most of his life to the shop and it was about time he dedicated some of it to her.
There was some-one else, though, that he knew shutting the shop would upset and it was some-one who he really wouldn't want to upset if he could avoid it.  However, his wife came before everyone else and he wouldn't change his mind to please his friend over her.   He'd decided it would be cruel to serve his last day in the shop without telling this person that it was closing but he was so upset he couldn't bring himself to tell him before work and he'd found an excuse to put it off.  Now though, he knew that if he didn't tell him once he'd delivered the painting, then he never would.  All day he had dreaded telling him, but he knew that the time was getting close.
After several failed attempts he managed to get his car to start.
"Don't worry," He muttered to it, "I'll let you retire soon."
He drove cautiously to the address he had scribbled on a small piece of paper now folded carefully and put in his pocket, making sure he didn't push the car too hard, because he thought it would be just his luck for it to break down on the last day he really needed it.  It was the address of his last customer and although he knew he would probably remember it, he'd jotted it down incase his memory had failed him as it did so often now.
He hadn't needed to check the address, but as he sat outside in the only piece of technology he had ever trusted he had a quick glance at the piece of paper just to reassure himself.
It took him a while to trust anything and the only reason he trusted his car was because he'd had it for so long.   There were only two people he had ever met he had fully trusted and they were his wife, who he loved without question and his best friend, who he'd soon have to tell what felt like the most difficult news he'd ever have to deliver.
A story, or rather the begning of a story, about a man who believes he has fulfilled the purpose of his life, not realising the most important part is yet to come. This part of the story covers themes of age, love and things coming to an end. This has been in my scrapbook for a little while, but I think it's time to make it a deviation, since I'm unlikely to change it much.
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