I found this photograph on filthy floor of the F Train while riding between Jay Street and Bergen Street in Brooklyn. It was just after midnight and I was almost too tired to pick it up. But then, a couple stops later, I realized I was still staring at it. I knew what I had to do. I reached over and peel it away from the grime left behind by thousands of New York City shoes.
I found this on the floor in one of my classes. Something made me pick it up and when I read it, I laughed at its cautious yet blunt nature, but kind of pitied the kid who wrote it. All in all, it’s pretty cute.
I work in the mail room of a small university. We occasionally get deliveries for people who are no longer here; in this case, it was a small bouquet of flowers. Alas, the intended recipient left, years ago.