It was a dark and stormy night. Candles were running low and sandwich in the dimly-lit fridge evoked visions of broken Lent and various sweet transgressions. The hand has reached for the sandwich’s wrap… The eyes examined the packing. It was plain but elegant zipper bag, unspoiled by any markings that would betray it as someone’s Friday’s feast of a lunch.Emboldened by such discovery, legs carried the sandwich towards the microvave and one of the hands opened and closed the small white door with a clank.

In a minute, aroma emanating from the microwave made it clear that all inhibitions that might have survived so far have been abolished, thus sealing the sandwich’s fate and hastening its untimely demise.

The light on a lamp post flickered and gave way to darkness.