Selbridge places a napkin in the neck of his shirt, just as he’s seen them do in the films. Removing an egg salad sandwich from a brown paper bag, he begins, slowly, meticulously to eat.

Around him, people are being swallowed by the earth below, like so many egg salad sandwiches. The rumbling is loud, deafening but Selbridge does not seem to mind. He finishes his sandwich, pulls the napkin from his shirt and dabs his mouth.

A man, still in the process of eating his sandwich, is sucked into the vast recreational lawn which closes above the him, his napkin caught by the breeze, drifting toward the spot where he’d been walking.

Selbridge bends down, picks up the napkin and dabs the spot where the ground has shut.

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