There was a little shop on Beaubien Street that always had random objects displayed in the window. A poster said, “EVERYTHING FOR SALE”, but nothing ever appeared to be moved or sold. The window display was part of my daily routine, a peculiar landscape on my walk to the subway. One day I noticed a note taped to the door announcing the funeral of a man whose name was unknown to me. I experienced a strange feeling of indiscretion as I wondered if it could have been the man who owned the shop. I paused, and then forgot about it. A few days later, the objects were removed. All that was left was a round table adorned by an artificial silk tablecloth and a few dried peppers. The trace that is left of a man never seen.

Published in Itch magazine e.05, February 2010.