I have logged thousands of hours at photocopiers, making things that I turn into posters or fliers. I come in with my materials, get to the task at hand and wrap up my work in as timely a manner as fate and machine will allow. When I leave, there is no trace, an empty workspace for the next person.

In my experience, this is the unspoken agreement at the copier: What we are making is not for anyone there; it’s for someone or something else.

Every once in a while, though, something is forgotten: a tax form, a map, sheet music. On a Sunday morning not long ago, I came across this at FedEx/Kinko’s, a mixed bag of fact and faith.

Chris Williams is a graphic designer at the INDY. Reach him at cwilliams@indyweek.com.