The Shop That Never Changes

The city changes a lot. New shops open every month. Big shops, bright shops, loud shops. But on my street, one little shop never changes.

The old man owns it. He has the same shelves, the same door, the same small bell. The bell rings when you walk in. It is always the same sound.

He sells bread, milk, and tea. Not a lot of things, but the right things. He knows my name. He knows I like the brown bread. Every day he says, “The usual?” And every day I say yes.

A lot of people return to this shop. They don't return for cheap milk. The big shop is cheaper. They return for the bell, the name, the same kind face.

The city changes a lot. But I like one thing that does not change. I like this little shop, and I always return.