The bell above the door gave a soft ring as the door opened.
Joseph didn't look up.
"You're late today."
Three weeks on the job and already testing his luck, Joseph thought to himself

The young delivery driver leaned the crate against his knee for a second to catch his balance and renew his grip before setting it on the counter and grinned.
"Only by five minutes, boss."
"Seven."
"Did you time me?"
"I've owned this shop twenty-six years." Joseph reached for the invoice without looking up... "You learn to tell."

The boy laughed. "You sound just like my old man."

"I probably knew him."
"I doubt it, but he'd like you though."

Joseph shrugged and took a sip of his coffee, it was lukewarm and bitter, just the way he preferred it on a Sunday morning.
"Looking forward to meeting him." Joseph said, looking up and gesturing toward the stockroom.
The kid shook his head, smiling as he disappeared into the stockroom with the crate.

Joseph started slicing a new batch of prosciutto.
Twenty-six years doing the same thing. His hands knew by memory where everything was before he did.

Mrs. Donnelly stepped in carrying her worn out shopping bag.
"Morning, Joseph."
Joseph nodded..."The usual?"
"When am I ever here for anything else, dear?""

He nodded towards the coffee pot. "It's fresh."
She poured herself a cup without asking. People had stopped asking years ago and took it for granted. Somewhere along the way, habit had quietly become tradition, even a ritual.

Mrs. Donnelly glanced toward the delivery boy. "New kid?"
"For about three weeks."
"He works hard."
"He sure does. But he rushes." Joseph folded the paper around the prosciutto, wrapping it for Mrs. Donnelly.

"I was no different at his age."
Mrs. Donnelly smiled.
"I find that difficult to imagine."
"Makes two of us."
She laughed, picked up her prosciutto and wandered back out into the street.
Joseph watched her cross the street before turning back to the slicer.
The slicer started humming again.
Another customer paused outside to read the specials written on the window.

Life in the shop had settled back into its usual daily rhythm. Same familiar faces dropping in to place their orders. 
The refrigerator was humming while the slicer was at work and somewhere down the block one could hear the fish vendor shouting the day's prices as though he could outshout the traffic.

The bell over the door rang again.
Joseph put his hand in his coat pocket and pulled out the old silver lighter. He turned it over once before striking the flint.

"Thing's older than the shop."
"I've heard it many times."
"Yeah? but it doesn't make it less true."

Joseph wandered over to the front window.
Across the street a delivery man was having a argument with the bakery owner and pointing towards the bread crates.
He couldnt hear what the conversation was about but it ended and the baker threw his hands in the air before picking up the crates and took them inside the store.

Joseph stepped out of the store for a smoke break.
Two men passed by and were talking louder than they probably meant to...

"...they're saying Fallensoldier dropped a few bodies all over the place before anybody knew what was happening."
"I heard at least six before they dealt with him."
"I heard more."
"You always hear more."

Their voices drifted away with them.
Joseph watched the two men disappear around the corner before he took another hit off his cigarette. Rumours always travel quicker than the truth. By tomorrow the whole neighbourhood would have hundreds different version, and every one of them would swear they'd heard it from somebody who was there.

Joseph went back inside... "hm... odd"
His assistant looked out the window towards the same direction as Joseph was looking.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Joseph looked outside for another moment before speaking again.
"I can swear that there used to be a bakery over there"
"Where? The Rossi place?"
"No."
"The one next door to the Rossi place."
"Oh yeah? what was it called?"
Joseph kept staring through the glass.
"...Bianchi." Joseph frowned... "No..."
He rubbed the side of his forehead.
"Maybe Rossi bought out the Bianchis?"

A few seconds passed.

"Or maybe I'm mixing them together."
His assistant laughed..."You're getting old boss."
Joseph smiled.
"I'm ancient... I've been old longer than you've been alive."
They both laughed.

Joseph looked back outside across the street. It's odd what the mind decides to hang on to and remember. Half the time he couldn't even remember where he'd left his reading glasses. But he could clearly remember the Italian bakery that used to bi across the street.

The door to the shop swung open with a soft jingle, but the man who entered wasn't there for cold cuts or conversation. Dressed in a charcoal suit with a fedora pulled low, the large tall man paused just inside, taking in the familiar scent of fresh cured meats, fresh bread, and burnt espresso before offering Joseph a respectful nod.

"Afternoon, Joe."

His voice carried the calm confidence of a man who had walked these streets long enough to know every crack in the pavement.

He glanced out the front window toward the empty storefront across the street.

"Funny thing about neighborhoods..." he muttered. "They don't just change. They forget."

Lighting a cigarette, he leaned against the counter.

"I remember the Bianchis too. Best cannoli on the block. Old man Bianchi used to yell if you touched one before paying." A faint grin crossed his face before it disappeared as quickly as it came. "Now everyone swears it was always Rossi's."

He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl toward the ceiling.

"People have been talking a lot today. Bodies... rumors... everyone's suddenly an eyewitness." He shrugged. "Truth gets buried faster than the dead around here."

His eyes met Joseph's.

"But memories..." he tapped the side of his temple. "...those are dangerous. They don't always disappear just because everyone else says they should."

He crushed the cigarette into the ashtray and straightened his jacket.

"Anyway... if an old bakery can vanish without anyone questioning it, makes a man wonder what else this city's willing to forget."

With that, he tipped his hat and stepped back toward the door, disappearing into the steady hum of South Philly as though he'd never been there at all.

The conversation that he just had with the well-dressed man wearing the charcoal suit stayed with him much longer than he wanted to admit; but he was right about one thing though...
Usually it took a few days or weeks before the neighborhood had forgotten what had taken place, perhaps because of all the things that keeps happening, overshadowing the previous ones, or maybe to the selective memories that people have.

Joseph took another hit from his cigarette, and he glanced again across the street trying to imagine the old bakery's location.
The young delivery boy had just finished unloading some flour at the bakery, dusted up hands and drank some water.

Sal was standing outside the restaurant, talking to somebody whom Joseph had never seen before.
Or maybe he had, he wasnt sure, when you meet so many ppl and see so many faces, people who you've never met start borrowing parts of each other's faces and trick the mind.

Sal noticed that Joseph was outside for a smoke break
"Joe." Joseph tipped his cap.
"You working at the kitchen today?"
Sal nodded... "Every day, no rest for the wicked you know, how is your mother?"
"Good."
"What about your little daughter?"
"Growing too fast."
"Happens."

There was another silence.
Joseph could remember the silences better than almost any conversation that they had ever had. It wasn't that Sal didn't like to talk because of the silence; he just liked it.
Joe, do you know Tommy? the card counter remember him?"
Joseph frowned. "Which Tommy?"
Sal smiled... "Exactly." Sal didn't say anything more.

A delivery wagon passed by, filling the road with noise for several seconds.

Joe noticed an argument between the shopkeeper about prices of tomatoes with a woman and her two little kids before the sound of their argument was overtaken of the next cart passing by.

Joseph watched all this in silence.

The neighbourhood kids running after a ball across the street while the butcher yelled at them was a sure sign that the neighbourhood had woken up and the day had started. Joseph watched them disappear around the corner.

"He grew up here in the neighbourhood," Sal said finally, tossing a bit of ash onto the street. "He was a nice guy."
Sal stared into the restaurant for another minute.
"The funny thing is..." Sal chuckled. "I can't recall anything he ever did before everyone knew him as a card counter."

Joseph waited, expecting to hear more from Sal, but there wasn't any. Sal just stood there smoking, thinking that there was nothing else to the conversation, he started to go back into his store, but Sal wasn't finished.

"Oh, by the way Joe" Sal pointed his index fingers toward Joseph's new delivery boy. "People have noticed your work."
"My work? What about it?" Joseph asked.
"Somebody came asking me about him."
"Who?" Joseph asked again.
Sal sighed. "Always with the questions. Who? What?" He looked at his pocket watch.
"My soup is getting cold." Sal turned toward the restaurant.
"Sal"
Without even turning around, Sal lifted one hand. "I'll be at the bakery tomorrow. We'll finish this conversation tomorow Joe."
And with that, he disappeared inside.
Joseph stayed outside, staring into the restaurant following Sal as he sat down in his place and picked up his spoon.
Joe had no clue what Sal wanted, but he knew he would never forget the words.

"Boss?"
A voice startled him.
The delivery boy was calling him from inside the store, holding two jars of olives. "Should I put these on the top shelf?"
"Not there." Joseph stepped behind the counter and moved the jars. "Customers can't reach that high."

The delivery boy nodded... "Sorry."
"You shouldn't apologize, your instructions werent clear, I'm at fault. Just remember it next time."
"I will."
Something made Joseph believe that the kid was telling the truth, though he wasn't sure why. He watched the youngster do what he was supposed to do. The outside world remained untouched by the unusual conversation that happened just a few minutes ago. Most days, nothing remarkable happened in this place.

The afternoon heat was beginning to wear off, giving way to the mid-August chill that was signalling that summer had begun packing its bags. Schools would be starting in a week or two.
You could tell by the way the kids were behaving - less time spent hanging around doing nothing, and instead a more quiet urgency to squeeze out the last few drop-dead days of freedom before being forced to endure the boredom of the classrooms.

Joseph leaned against the doorframe, watching the dark shadows stretch long down the pavement.
The street was shifting back into its autumn skin, it was starting to show on some of the trees... which he found odd. The out of towners who had been here visiting relatives and had been blending with the locals and wandered through during the summer was thinning out, leaving behind only the regulars, the commuters and the ghosts, that you rarely saw/wanted to be noticed but you KNEW lived there and contributed.

Inside the store, the delivery boy was sweeping up. He was moving slower today, the heat of the past few months having worn off into the quiet realization that the easy tempo of summer was officially over.
"You're taking your sweet time today," Joseph said without turning around.
"Sorry boss, didn't get a good night's sleep and it's been a long day," the boy said, resting his chin on top of the broom handle.
"Feels like everyone’s getting ready for the winter."
"Neighborhood just goes through a transformation for a few weeks, that's all. It happens every year when the sun turns."
Joseph pulled the silver lighter from his pocket,
"Summer allows people pretend they've got time to burn. Autumn brings them back to reality and reminds them that they don't have time."

The delivery boy stood silent for a second, then went back to sweeping.


Joseph lit up a cigarette and took a long drag, staring across at the bakery window. Sal’s words were still rattling around in his ribs like loose change.
"People have noticed your work."

Funny thing about this city, Joseph thought to himself. You could spend months and years working hard and grinding in the dark, thinking nobody was paying attention, you could fly under the radar while the rest of the world was busy caring about its selfish goals. You think you're invisible. But the streets don't miss much. They DO notice. They just wait to see if you're going to stick around once the weather turns sour.

The front door jingled, breaking the silence.

The front door jingled.

Joseph glanced toward it, cigarette resting between two fingers. The big tall man from before had entered the store.

This time donning a black pin-striped suit. Black fedora. A dark overcoat worn neatly over his shoulders despite the heat outside. He carried himself with the effortless confidence of a man who had never needed to hurry for anyone.

He paused just inside the doorway. His eyes found Joseph's.

Then came a small, genuine smile.

"Joseph."

Joseph studied him for a moment.

"Evenin'."

The man takes off his fedora and sets it on the counter.

"Forgive me for dropping in without notice."

Joseph raised an eyebrow.

"You seem like the kind of man who doesn't need an invitation."

A quiet chuckle escaped the man.

"Perhaps."

He stepped farther inside, closing the door behind him.

"But a gentleman asks regardless."

Joseph gave a faint smile.

"Didn't know gentlemen came around these parts."

"Oh, we're everywhere."

The man walked toward the counter, his polished shoes making very little sound against the floor for how tall he was.

"We simply don't always advertise ourselves is all."

Joseph took a drag from his cigarette.

"You got a name?"

The man looked amused.

"I imagine you've already heard it."

"Maybe I have."

"And if you have, then you know better than to repeat it too loudly."

Joseph laughed under his breath.

"Fair enough."

The man extended his right hand.

"You can call me Mr. Moretti."

Joseph looked at the offered hand for a moment before shaking it.

"Joseph."

"I know."

Joseph released his hand.

"That's becoming a habit tonight."

Moretti smiled.

"I make it my business to know the people who matter."

Joseph's expression became slightly more guarded.

"And I matter?"

Moretti looked around the store.

At the shelves.

The counter.

The old floorboards.

Then toward the window, where the last traces of daylight were disappearing from the street and the old bakery still sat empty.

"You're still here, aren't you?"

Joseph considered that.

"I suppose I am."

"That tells me enough."

Moretti reached into his coat and pulled out a cigarette case.

He opened it and offered one to Joseph.

Joseph glanced at it.

"I'm alright."

"Of course."

Moretti pulled back the case without offense and selected one for himself.

He lit it with a silver lighter, taking his time.

"Sal tells me you've been doing good work."

Joseph's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Sal talks too much."

"Perhaps."

Moretti smiled.

"But he speaks highly of you."

Joseph leaned against the counter.

"That's unusual."

"Not really."

Moretti exhaled a stream of smoke.

"Good work has a way of finding its way to the right ears."

Joseph looked toward the bakery.

"Seems like everybody's listening lately."

"Everybody listens."

Moretti's voice was gentle.

"You see... the trick is knowing who deserves to be heard."

Joseph looked back at him.

"And do I?"

Moretti smiled.

"I came here, didn't I?"

That earned a quiet laugh from Joseph.

"You're pretty good at avoiding a straight answer."

"My mother used to say a straight answer is like a straight road."

Joseph raised an eyebrow.

"And?"

"Useful."

Moretti tapped the ash from his cigarette.

"But terribly boring."

Joseph laughed again.

"I might like your mother."

"You would've."

There was a comfortable silence between them.

The sort that didn't need filling.

Moretti looked toward the fading sunlight outside.

"Beautiful evening."

"Getting colder."

"Yes."

He nodded thoughtfully.

"That's when a neighborhood tells you who its people really are."

Joseph glanced at him.

"How's that?"

"See in summer, everyone has somewhere to be."

Moretti smiled faintly.

"When the cold comes, people start looking for somewhere to belong."

Joseph pondered about that for a moment.

"Sounds like you're looking for something."

"Perhaps."

"Here?"

Moretti looked directly at him.

"Perhaps."

Joseph laughed and smiled.

"You always talk like this?"

"Only when I'm enjoying the company."

Joseph shook his head.

"You're a strange man, Mr. Moretti."

Moretti gave a soft laugh and glanced toward the door.

"I should let you get back to your evening."

Joseph nodded.

"Appreciate you stopping by."

Moretti placed his fedora back on his head.

Then he paused.

"One thing, Joseph."

"Yeah?"

Moretti looked at him with the same easy warmth he'd had since entering.

"Don't work so hard trying to prove yourself."

Joseph's smile faded slightly.

"You think that's what I'm doing?"

"No."

Moretti opened the door.

"I think you've already proven enough."

The bell jingled softly.

Joseph watched him step onto the sidewalk.

Then Moretti stopped once more and glanced back.

"And Joseph?"

"Yeah?"

"Keep doing what you're doing."

A small smile.

"People notice."

Then he tipped his hat.

"Good evening."

The door closed behind him.

Joseph stood there for a moment as he looked through the window. Moretti had already made it halfway down the street.

Joseph shook his head, a reluctant smile creeping across his face.

"Strange damn man..."

He took one last look at the empty bakery across the street then says to himself:

"...but I think I like him."