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 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.
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. I Hope You Brought Enough for Everyone! (16.12....
"Must be nice," sighed Brenda from Logistics, who had just joined the circle holding a cup of instant noodles that smelled faintly of cardboard and salt. "I forgot my lunch today."
"Yeah, me too," Sarah mumbled, turning on her heel. "And I think that cheese might be a bit too rich for me anyway." Arthur took the smallest, crust-only piece for himself
Arthur froze, the crust just brushing his mustache. "It's just a small sandwich."
The others chimed in with supportive, hungry laughs. "Yeah, Arthur!" "Pass it around!" "I'll take a corner!" The trouble with the Department of Records was the silence
"Well, Arthur," Miller said, nodding at the solitary, glorious sandwich. "I hope you brought enough for everyone!"