Shoes or medicine.
You don’t win those calculations.
You just survive them.
The shop I work at isn’t much.
A small, aging garage on the edge of town with a flickering sign and tools older than me. The kind of place people come to when they can’t afford anywhere else.
Which means most days… neither can I.
That afternoon had been long.
Three oil changes, one transmission job that turned into a nightmare, and a customer who promised to “pay next week.”
They always say that.
They rarely mean it.
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