The Secret of The Sandwich Man

At the office, there was a quiet man named Paul. The kind you hardly noticed — polite, steady, almost invisible. Every day he ate the same lunch: a plain peanut butter and jelly sandwich wrapped in wax paper. No chips, no drink, nothing fancy. Occasionally, we teased him lightly, the way coworkers do when they think it’s harmless. He’d just smile, shrug, and continue eating.

So when Paul quit, it surprised everyone. No farewell email, no announcement. He simply told the manager, packed his things, and left. I happened to be nearby and offered to help. He thanked me with that familiar quiet smile. I expected nothing more than some old pens and sticky notes in his desk. Instead, I found a bundle of children’s drawings tied with a worn rubber band.