Monday, July 9, 2018 5:34 AM

On my way to work, I see what looks like a person slumped over on the bench with the Give-and-Take box. I walk more quickly toward it, fearing that something has happened to to the man who is often there, smoking and reading late at night. When I get closer, I relax: it's a large duvet that has slid partway to the ground. The box itself is empty. All the books that I had left there last week have been taken, a few at a time. Last night, a collection of children's books and toys and a pink plastic dollhouse were there. They're also gone. A few small white circles, concave and delicate, rest at the bottom of the box, petals that have fallen from the flowers on the trees above the bench. I wonder if I could use the duvet, but decide that I can't, and wouldn't want to drag it to work and back. When I pass the bench the next night, the duvet, too, has disappeared.