"You know, I actually have a 12:30," Miller said, backing away.
"Wow, Arthur," Sarah said, leaning in so close her lanyard swung over his keyboard. "That looks incredible. Is that real prosciutto?" "It's Italian," Arthur whispered. "Imported." I Hope You Brought Enough for Everyone! (16.12....
The group fell into a heavy, expectant silence. Five pairs of eyes tracked Arthur’s hand as it hovered near his mouth. No one moved. No one went back to their desks. They just stood there, breathing in the scent of melted French cheese and cured pork. "You know, I actually have a 12:30," Miller
The coworkers stared at the sad, destroyed remnants of the masterpiece. Miller blinked, cleared his throat, and looked at his watch. I actually have a 12:30
"What's that smell, Arthur?" Miller asked, his nostrils visibly flaring.