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

The sign was taped across the back of Charles’s chair, printed off a computer instead of handwritten, which meant someone had sat down at a keyboard and thought about the wording.

RESERVED FOR CHARLOTTE’S DATE.

I stood in the doorway clutching my lunch bag against my chest.

Derek Vance set his fork down at the far table and let his laugh out before the punch line.

“Watch out, Charlotte.

Somebody’s saving you a seat.”

Two claims clerks at the middle table stared down at their trays.

Charles’s cart sat in its corner next to the ice machine.