I t was sitting on the curb before the sun came up on Friday. I passed it in the dim light on my morning walk with the dog. “Free leather chair. Mmmm, comfy!” the sign proclaimed. I decided to inspect the chair closely because I felt like I owed the writer of that sign at least another moment of my time. Who takes the time to take Sharpie to paper try to promote a free item that they’ve abandoned to the trash-picking, early-morning zombie hordes—a number to which I must now admit I belong? I already knew the answer: someone ambivalent about their decision to release their old friend Chair to the vagaries of fate. Squinting at it in the half-light, my initial inclination…