It was there—all three rolls were there. Someone had left them. They were wrapped in cellophane. “To take them or not take them?” the person asked herself. Her eyes didn’t see anybody looking her way on the busy street. “I am hungry.” She touched the rolls one by one. They were soft and fresh. Opening the pocket of her long black winter coat, she put them inside. “Thank God, they fit. These are for when I am in a safe place and can actually eat them,” she said shrugging her shoulders. She walked away from the subway station.