The city stops for twelve minutes and this is what it looks like. A sandwich bar named after the break itself, built with the texture of a New York corner: hand-drawn signage, a groundhog that pops up at noon and disappears, cobalt and cream stamped across wrapping paper, punch cards and a menu spun like a 7-inch single. Fast, repeatable, a little scrappy, the lunch break as a track you put on and flip before you are back at your desk.