Arthur watched in horror as Sarah followed Miller. Then, like meerkats sensing rain, three more heads popped up from the data entry pool.
Arthur froze, the crust just brushing his mustache. "It's just a small sandwich."
The coworkers stared at the sad, destroyed remnants of the masterpiece. Miller blinked, cleared his throat, and looked at his watch. I Hope You Brought Enough for Everyone! (16.12....
On this particular Tuesday, Arthur brought a small, grease-stained brown paper bag containing a single, perfectly toasted artisanal sourdough roll stuffed with melted Camembert, prosciutto, and a fig glaze. It was a masterpiece.
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. Arthur watched in horror as Sarah followed Miller
Across the row of cubicles, a pair of glasses poked up over a fabric wall. It was Miller from Accounting.
The others chimed in with supportive, hungry laughs. "Yeah, Arthur!" "Pass it around!" "I'll take a corner!" "It's just a small sandwich
"Smells big," Miller said, standing up fully. He began to walk over. "Smells like a gourmet bistro in here."