In my building, strangers leave boxes of food and snacks on the main floor table.
One morning, I was hungry and found a whole box of energy bars someone had left behind. It felt like Christmas morning.
Since then, I’ve seen bags of kettle chips, cans of soup, instant meals — even a batch of homemade fudge bars in neatly labeled Ziploc bags. (I didn’t feel adventurous enough to try those, but I admired the effort.)
These small acts of generosity always strike me. The giver must feel just as good — maybe even better — than the person who takes the food. I’ve never lived anywhere else where people do this so casually and so kindly.
It feels like one of those uniquely human things.
I’ve fed the neighborhood squirrels plenty of times, but not once have they left me a snack in return.
I write daily on my blog and publish one polished essay every Sunday on Substack. You can read or subscribe at deepak108.com.
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