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

“Derek says a lot of things into empty rooms.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and set a gas station cupcake on the table.

Chocolate, with rainbow sprinkles.

The price tag on the wrapper said 2.49.

The cupcake tilted a little to one side, and Charles nudged it upright with one finger.

“Saw your name up on the bulletin board,” he said.

“Figured it was worth celebrating.”

“You didn’t need to do that.”