Vaughn deftly assembled a turkey avocado sandwich, wrapped it in a to-go box, and handed it to a slim, attractive brunette who seemed permanently affixed to her cellphone, jabbering away about the latest problems with her boyfriend. Blah blah blah forgot our anniversary, blah blah finally got my period, whisper whisper he's really into bondage --- okay, Vaughn admittedly did a double take, but the woman was already out the door before he could catch the juicy tidbits on that one.
After her departure, there was no one left in the shop (save the manager in the back), which enabled him pull out the stool underneath the pastry display by the cash register and plant his tired ass on it. Business was slow today, so his co-worker had left early to go to a concert. At least other people led exciting lives. Bored, Vaughn leaned his elbows against the counter and gazed out the tinted glass windows where Which Wich?, the name of the shop, was emblazoned. He could see a corner of Central Park and wondered who might be wandering through its various attractions today.