I Hope You Brought Enough For Everyone! (16.12.... -

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.

"Well, Arthur," Miller said, nodding at the solitary, glorious sandwich. "I hope you brought enough for everyone!"

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....

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.

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

"Is that... fig?" Miller’s head rose another three inches.

Within thirty seconds, five people were standing around Arthur’s desk, staring down at the 6-inch pocket of bread. Arthur instinctively pulled the greaseproof paper tighter around the sourdough, clutching it to his chest like a cornered animal. "Well, Arthur," Miller said, nodding at the solitary,

"What's that smell, Arthur?" Miller asked, his nostrils visibly flaring.