Soon, three neighbors had checked beneath the same bench slat.

Chef Crumbs tapped the spot with the end of his wooden spoon.

“You already checked here, Chip.”

Chip nodded.

“I checked, checked again, and then checked for a different kind of checking.”

Socks examined the device’s seams, still hoping the gear had somehow hidden inside the machine built to hold it.

Mo rested his mug on the bench arm.

“Everyone keeps searching the same places.”

This time, even Chip paused.

Then he looked across the Square as though seeing it for the first time.