The Mystery Lunch

Omar worked in a small office on the third floor, and he was always so busy that he never had a proper lunch. At one o’clock every day he ate a dry biscuit at his desk, his eyes fixed on the screen, and told himself that this counted as a break.

On Monday a green box appeared on his desk. A note beside it read, “Please eat this at one o’clock.” Inside he found warm soup and a thick slice of bread. Omar glanced round the office, but nobody seemed to be paying him the slightest attention, which only made the whole thing stranger. He checked the box for a name, but there was none.

He was hungry, so he ate the soup, and it was far better than anything he had eaten at that desk. On Tuesday another box arrived, this time with rice and chicken, and the note said, “Sit down. Do not work.” For once he obeyed, and it struck him that he had not sat still over a meal for months. By Tuesday he caught himself glancing at the clock at five to one.

By Wednesday Omar was determined to find the cook. He questioned his boss, and he questioned Dana at reception. “No idea,” they both replied. Yet Dana smiled faintly as she said it, and she looked down at her keyboard a fraction too quickly. Omar noticed, but he decided not to push her.

On Thursday he walked into the kitchen at noon. Mrs Ray, the cleaner, was standing there with a green box in her hands. “You never eat,” she said. “Now you can say thank you.” Omar burst out laughing. The kitchen smelled of onions and fresh bread. “Thank you!” he said, and on Friday a new note was waiting on his desk: “Today, we eat together.”