The Deli On Granville

The Deli On Granville I lived in the attic back then, and late those evenings I had to study and couldn’t afford to go drinking I’d run down to the deli and buy bagels and smoked lox. I’d watch the lame son wrap each item in white paper while his father, coughing at the register, pointed to the cans on the wall and screamed, “Serve yourself! Serve yourself!” I’d grab a tin of baked beans and he’d smile. Now, years later, I return to the deli and find that it’s closed. The sign on the door confirms what everyone else already knows: There has been a death in the family. Donal Mahoney