I could often see my mom standing in front of The Luncheonette as I walked the last leg of my two-block hike from P.S. 135. Mom was a manicurist in the beauty salon a few doors down and to make sure we were on schedule, she would get there early and preorder my lunch. We always sat at the counter--on the round red leatherette stools that swiveled when you tried to hop up on them. She would never order her own meal--she didn’t have that much time to spend because Friday was one of the busiest days at the salon. As I ate she would often sneak a fry out of my plate. I liked it best when she kept me company. We would chat about school as I took small bites and tried to extend my lunchtime break for as long as I could. Every so often she would have to get back to work before I was done, and I was then left to finish and head out on my own.