The man eats his sandwich with such antsiness, such suppressed power visible in every movement of hand to mouth. He leans forward and his feet bounce up onto the tips of their toes. At intervals his hands brush each other off, trading favors with utilitarian nonchalance. They sound like sandpaper bristling.
Between bites, his tongue sweeps brusquely against his teeth, clearly the result of a long habit of efficient food consumption. The sandwich is nearly gone and he puts the last bite in his mouth, crumpling the wrapper in the same motion. With decision, he captures and munches on a few sesame-seed escapees.
