I've passed a homeless man who sleeps on my corner in a black sleeping bag many times; usually, he is completely covered by the sleeping bag and his head is pointing downhill next to a USPS mailbox.
The other day, though, he was sitting up in his sleeping bag and leaning against the mailbox. He had a bunch of 1/2 smoked cigarettes piled on his bag (saving for later?), and he was reading a paperback. Even though this man was probably in his 70s, I had a flashback of seeing smelly Outward Bound boys sitting up in their sleeping bags on their solo times.
As I got closer, I could see what he was reading:
The Notebook, by Nicolas Sparks.
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