Lauren gave up these books when she got her new e-reader, but now regrets having given them away upon discovering that due to a serious design oversight Kindles do not hold up well after being smeared with roe, dipped in ponzu sauce, drizzled with hot chicken drippings and then taken on magical (chicken-greasy) adventures to the north pole. What a let-down.

This notebook belonged to a person named Jack.

I’m pretty good at this.

These books belonged to a very nice, very earnest guy named Paul who has a healthier relationship than you and likes what he likes. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Judgy McJudgerson.

I like to think this book is the sign of a heartfelt and long-planned conversion to vegetarianism by a middle-aged optometrist named Richard. It’s not so much the ethical concerns of meat, though he’s not blind to those, but Richard has just reached a certain age where he feels he needs to work harder to maintain the same level of health he’s been taking for granted, and giving up meat is a part of that larger struggle.

But this is Brooklyn. No, some kid bought this book ironically and got bored of it, is all.

This appears to be a galley that was sold to a used book store—note the price tag on it—bought, and is now on some damp sidewalk somewhere. I don’t know who owned it, but I do know that this photo elicited an audible moan from about a thousand book publicists across this town.

Is that a CD behind the Gaffigan book? These were clearly left by a ghost because anyone who has ever owned CDs is long dead by now, right? A ghost who thought she liked Jim Gaffigan.

This reader is 58, single, overweight, barely literate with bad skin and socially crippling halitosis. But she’s off swimming with a dolphin right this moment because sometimes life is just magical and rewards those that need it most. *cue knockoff Amelie music*