A maternal twinge when a teenager gets her learner's permit

“Here for a learner’s permit?” The clerk smiled from her kiosk at the pair standing before her. “How did you guess?” the woman replied, as her daughter smiled. They presented their documents, took a number and looked out over the crowded benches at the Department of Motor Vehicles for a place to sit.

“Now serving … Bee-sixty-five …” intoned a disembodied female voice. “At counter number … eleven.”