Downstairs at the company canteen I come in quietly, first customer, just as the woman making sandwiches drops half a roll. The roll rolls like a wheel wheels over to the cook. The cook stops cooking and picks up the roll, dusts it off with a hairy hand, and hands it back to her. Roll roll. Wheel wheel. Cook cook. Hand hand. I back out. But I'm hungry. I walk in, louder this time. "Good morning." I buy a couple of sandwiches.