End of Story

by A.J. Finn

Nicky sighs, spots a FOR RENT sign in a dusty storefront, AMY’S LAUNDRY painted across the glass. “When I see a sign like that,” she says, “I think, Man, it must’ve been so exciting for Amy, watching them stencil the window, getting business cards printed, the grand opening . . . Her family must’ve felt proud.” They slide beneath a green light. “And then working, probably very hard, for whatever it was she wanted, and putting up with whatever she put up with, only to wind up like that.” The Amy-less store recedes from view. “Opening a business must be like a marriage,” Nicky concludes. “Nobody goes into it assuming they’ll fail. But she did. Amy, I mean. So I feel terribly for her. Because she had a dream and it died and that’s sad. I know what failure’s like; most people do, on some scale. It’s humiliating! And unfair! And I think most people—not all people, but most—I think they deserve better.” A respectful silence. After a moment, Sebastian opens his eyes and says, “Amy’s Laundry was a drug front.”

I just loved the way this is written. I've had the same thought process as I've driven through parts of towns as a visitor.