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THE DAY SOMEONE STOLE MY SANDWICH


THE DAY SOMEONE STOLE MY SANDWICH

So it was a Wednesday, nope Friday Jr., aka Thursday, and it’s the lunchroom at work.  Bright smiles on my face the entire day, just knowing the sandwich I hand crafted from home, was going to be mines.  I mean I made that sandwich with my own hands, piece by piece, layer by layer, with so much love in my body.  For of course, when you love what you eat and eat what you love, shoot, love and delight ooze out of you infinitely.  Well, at least this is what I tell myself.
So yes, Thursday was the day, I remember it so vividly when I arrived at the work refrigerator to find my sandwich of love, and it was not there…I panicked, I said to myself, well maybe I left it at home.  Wrong, I remember so many memories of seeing this lovely sandwich enter the fridge early in the morning as I came into work, in as many angles, slow motion, depth of field as my human mind could allow.  Where was thy sandwich, I got scared, maybe it ran away.  But nope, someone ate it, stole it from the fridge, left crumbs on the table and even the cute wrapper it was in.
My heart was stolen, never to be okay once again, that I never brought a sandwich back to work ever again.  To find out months later, visually seeing a co-worker of mine, joyfully walk in the lunchroom and gone in a fridge and randomly ate someone’s lunch.  I had to build up all the might in my body to ask, hey, why did you do that, and his reply was, I am hungry, it looked good, there is no one here, and they will never know it was me, plus he didn’t care…and there and then I realized my friend was sandwich thief, and I could not unsee the madness of him eating someone else’s handcrafted delicious sandwich, that they will never get to eat.
Has this happened to you?

Thank for reading,
Richardo A. Wilson

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