I decided to make a sandwich while I was waiting for you. I know, I could have just bought one from one of the vendors lining the street. I’ve sampled their wares in the past and can attest to their tastiness. But I like to watch my hands build things. I like to choose the order in which to stack the various components. Now, I could have simply purchased the sandwich fixings at the supermarket and gotten on with my day. I had already been waiting a long time and I didn’t know when you’d be back. But still, I had been in so many arguments with people in the store about which bread is best that I thought I should bake my own. Yes, it took a long time, especially planting and harvesting the wheat. The dairy farm passed through several stages of disaster before it became viable. The tomatoes were easy. Always had good luck with tomatoes. I cannot fully describe the pleasure of seeing all those sandwich components spread out on the table around the blank plate. Maybe the sun gets a similar thrill, an intake of breath just before it crests the horizon, painting the world anew. I stacked that sandwich layer by layer, a secret combination to condense satisfaction into the smallest possible space. I know that were I to show the sandwich to the man on the street, he would nod in recognition at some layers, shrug at others, and wrinkle his face in disapproval at certain culinary choices. He’d never want a bite of it and he’d never hungered for it like I had.

They are still murmuring out there, checking their watches, comparing schedules. Thanks for taking your time. This sandwich is the best I’ll ever have.