Eleven Years of Eating Lunch by a Window in Columbus, Ohio, Ended With a Box I Never Expected
It caught us both off guard.
Derek glanced back from the hallway.
He looked at Charles, then at me, then at the trash bin beside the door.
The clock above the counter ticked over to twelve ten.
Charles took a bite of his sandwich.
I unrolled my sack.
My sandwich was cheese on rye, sliced into triangles.
By a quarter to one most of the room had cleared out.