Spar Witch (fiction)
Spar Witch The grocery store marked the end of Dublin’s one block Chinatown. It served as both a late night place to buy drinks and imported snacks and as a playground for the kids living in the estate building complex flanked its side completely. I only went there to buy cereal, milk and digestives when I couldn’t get it from the supermarket on my way home. Each time I would walk out scowling at the prices I had just indulged. Oddly, I feel sentimental about the place. Thinking about it now it feels like one of those standard dreams turned real, where the most bizarre things happen in the most mundane settings. One night when we were hastily packing our tiny carry-ons for a flight to London, I was craving a digestive so I suggested we take a quick dessert break and go to the grocery store to get something. My apartment at the time felt more like a prison than a room, it was a subterranean lair at best. On an average day in Dublin the greyness of the sky and hence the puddles an