The Lunchbox

At twelve thirty, Management could not open the lunchbox. It was new, blue, and had been bought because the old one opened in a bag.

Management pulled the two clips back and lifted. The lid stayed put. Across the room, Ruth continued eating an apple, watching without turning her head.

“Both clips?” she said.

Management showed her both clips.

Ruth washed her hands and tried. Then she dried them thoroughly and tried again. She handed the box to Colin, who put on the yellow glove kept beside the sink. Colin held it against his stomach. His chair travelled backwards a little.

“What’s in it?” Ruth asked.

“A sandwich.”

“Is it a good one?”

“I was hoping.”

They ran warm water over the lid. Management dried the bottom with a tea towel while Colin held the top. Ruth fetched a teaspoon, then stood beside them with it, waiting for a useful opening.

Returning from the post office, Ada pressed a small blue button in the centre. The lid lifted with a sigh.

Nobody spoke for a moment. Colin removed the glove finger by finger.

Management cut the sandwich into four pieces and put them on the lid. There was cheese, pickle, and considerably more butter at one end than the other.

Ada took the small corner. “I’ve already eaten,” she said, and stayed.