A half-eaten sandwich lay wrapped in a paper napkin beside an unopened apple juice box.

Michael threw the sandwich in the metal trash can.

He wiped out the inside of the lunchbox with a damp paper towel.

At eight thirty his phone rang on the kitchen island.

Carla’s name was on the screen.

Michael hit the green speaker button.

“Are you looking at the quarterly budget sheets?” Carla asked.

Carla talked in crisp business language.