Eleven Years of Eating Lunch by a Window in Columbus, Ohio, Ended With a Box I Never Expected
“On the building.” He adjusted the rubber band until it lay straight.
“Twelve forty.
Third floor.
Two bags out.” He said the times as if he were reading off a train schedule.
“That’s what you wrote down?”
“That’s exactly what I wrote.” He turned the notebook so I could see the page.
“I pay attention to what gets thrown out.”
I looked at the notebook.
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