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

Charles shut the book with his thumb tucked inside to keep his place.

“When I was in a room.”

“Which room was that?”

“Whichever room I happened to be in.” He looked out at the maple tree turning yellow around its edges.

“You ever read Louis L’Amour?”

“I haven’t.”

“I’ve got forty of his books in a box out in my garage,” he said.

“Nobody to give them to.