Eleven Years of Eating Lunch by a Window in Columbus, Ohio, Ended With a Box I Never Expected

The rubber band had gone slack, and I held it between two fingers.

April eleventh.

Third-floor bathrooms, 6:40.

Break room trash, 7:05.

Somebody left a cupcake wrapper in the window bin, price tag still stuck on.

Then, in smaller writing: Rain coming.

Tree will hold.

Above that, in a different ink, three words that had nothing to do with the firm.