The Line

In a small town,
people lined up each morning
for fresh bread.

The line was always long.

They stood quietly.
Each waited their turn.

One day, a man arrived late.

The door was already open.

He looked at the line.
Then walked to the front.

A few people glanced at him.
No one spoke.

“It’s only one place,” he said.
“No one will mind.”

He bought his bread and left.

The next day,
he did the same.

Each time,
a few more people noticed.

But no one said anything.

After a while,
it felt almost normal.

The line held,
but not as firmly.

Then, one morning,
the man arrived early.

He stood
where the line should begin.

Others came.
They walked past him.

He frowned.

“There’s a line,” he said

“It’s only one place,”
They said.

And he found himself at the back.