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A woman looked up from a diagnostic tablet. She was in her sixties, with silver-streaked hair pulled into a tight bun and forearms that looked like they’d been carved from oak. Her coveralls read over the heart.

His first customer of the morning was a terrified teenager in a beat-up Prius. “Please,” the kid said, “I have a job interview. The red triangle of death came on.” pitstop pro

“Uh… do I know you?”

“You owe me six dollars,” she said.

“We fix moments.”

“Six dollars? For that ?”

He drove away in a daze. The car purred. The temperature needle sat dead in the center. He made it home as Maya was leaning over the cake, eyes squeezed shut, lips moving. A woman looked up from a diagnostic tablet