Small enough to begin.

Dear you,

After the shop closed, I kept waking up at five. For twenty-three years I had unlocked its door at six. My body had not received the news.

I started walking to the bakery instead. At first I bought one roll. Then the baker asked if I could carry a tray into the kitchen. A week later I was helping with the early deliveries.

It is not a story about finding a better job. I still miss the shop. But yesterday someone asked whether I would be in tomorrow, and I realized I had an answer.