Slowly, deliberately, Arthur set the sandwich down on his desk. He reached into his middle drawer and pulled out a heavy pair of industrial steel scissors he used for trimming ledger covers. The crowd gasped in anticipation. Snip. Snip. Snip.
The coworkers stared at the sad, destroyed remnants of the masterpiece. Miller blinked, cleared his throat, and looked at his watch.
The trouble with the Department of Records was the silence. It was so quiet that when Arthur opened his desk drawer to retrieve his napkin, the sliding mechanism sounded like a thunderclap. When he untucked the wax paper from around his sandwich, it crackled with the intensity of a brushfire. I Hope You Brought Enough for Everyone! (16.12....
Within ten seconds, the cubicle aisle was empty. Arthur sat alone at his desk, staring at the five lonely, mutilated squares of sourdough. They were ruined, but as he picked up a sticky piece of crust, Arthur smiled. It was a small price to pay for peace.
The group fell into a heavy, expectant silence. Five pairs of eyes tracked Arthur’s hand as it hovered near his mouth. No one moved. No one went back to their desks. They just stood there, breathing in the scent of melted French cheese and cured pork. Slowly, deliberately, Arthur set the sandwich down on
"Well, Arthur," Miller said, nodding at the solitary, glorious sandwich. "I hope you brought enough for everyone!"
Arthur took the smallest, crust-only piece for himself and popped it into his mouth. He then gestured grandly to the five tiny, mangled cubes of bread resting on his desk. "Help yourselves," Arthur said through dry lips. The coworkers stared at the sad, destroyed remnants
Arthur watched in horror as Sarah followed Miller. Then, like meerkats sensing rain, three more heads popped up from the data entry pool.