The Last Teriyaki Joint in the World

Last night, I picked up teriyaki from my favorite place and learned it was the last day for the owners—a married couple. They’d sold the business and were heading into retirement. I was surprised by the depth of my sadness. I wiped away tears. They’d been my teriyaki joint for twenty-one years. I asked them about their future plans. The wife said, “I’ll visit my sisters in Korea more often.” The husband said, “I’ll take two long walks every day.” I shook their hands and wished them well. They thanked me for being a longtime customer. Then I left. They were people that I barely knew, but still somehow love, and I grieve the loss. This is what happens as we age. Our doctors retire. Our bankers move to new cities. Our high school sweethearts pass away. I think of my siblings. Soon enough, one of us will be the only one left. Does anybody anywhere want to the one who has to turn off the last light? This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit shermanalexie.substack.com/subscribe