We were about to discuss the fundamental essence of sushi, but it appears that the meaning of life itself has been consumed by the very thing we sought to understand.
As we sit here in stunned silence, the wasabi and soy sauce have begun to seep into our collective subconscious, raising more questions than answers.
The room has fallen still, the only sound the gentle hum of refrigerated air, the only light the flicker of the fluorescent tubes above.
And so, we shall adjourn this meeting, to reconvene at a later date, when perhaps the existential crisis has subsided, and we may once again find meaning in the swirling vortex of sushi.
Or, perhaps, we will simply order pizza.