“Alright, Colin, that’s enough for today,” Mrs. Cunningham says as she stands up from the kitchen table.

She kind of reminds me of a librarian in her tweed pencil skirt, blouse, and thick-framed tortoiseshell glasses. She even has her silver stained brown hair up in a tight bun with only a couple of loose strands. She’s very thin and showing her age of course. Skin starting to sag and frown lines becoming more pronounced. I’ve been in her apartment before and seen a framed photo of her at a young age with her sister—I assumed since they looked so much alike—and she looked so youthful and vibrant. It made me wonder about how people age. Will that happen to me?

“Okay, any homework, Mrs. Cunningham?” I ask. I’ve never asked but though she says to call her Mrs. I’ve never seen a Mr. Cunningham. There aren’t even any photographs of a man at her place.

“Oh yes, I want you to write a biology essay on jellyfish, the topic of which could be anything to want but at least one page, Colin. I also would like if you could do the geometry problems at the end of seven, please,” she shoulders her bag as she says this.

“Will do, Mrs. Cunningham,” I smile at her and she slowly returns it. I am not looking forward to writing an essay on stinging squishy sea creature. What would I even say? I guess I could borrow Joanna’s laptop to do some research. She won’t mind at all but knowing her she’ll try to distract me from the task. I don’t think I would mind this time.

“Good, now I’ll see you Monday afternoon,” she says as I walk with her to the apartment door. I merely nod in agreement and bid her farewell as she walks to the elevator to go to the top floor where she lives unless she has somewhere else to be. I’ve wondered if she has Tweed Skirt and Gaudy Glasses conventions she likes to go to. I bet there’s a union.

I wait a few minutes before I snatch up my keys and step out locking the door behind me. I ride the elevator down to the lobby again but this time to get the mail.

I say hello to Marcel the doorman who is at the desk inside having a late lunch when I exit the elevator. He nods with a mouthful of pastrami and rye bread, juices of a tomato dripping down his chin. I realize then that I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. I rub my stomach a little as I enter a small room.