The Man Who Fed Silence: The Story Behind The Plain Sandwich

I tucked the drawings back where I found them, my hands oddly unsteady, and tried to shake the feeling off. Later that day, when I saw him by the elevator, I couldn’t hold it in anymore and blurted out, “Hey Paul, those drawings in your desk — what are those about?”

He paused mid-motion, hand hovering over the elevator button longer than it should have. Then he looked at me — not surprised, not annoyed, just quietly observant, like he had been expecting this moment at some point. “You ever been to the West End Library around 6 p.m.?” he asked.

“No… why?”