"That’s it?" the man laughed, reaching for his wallet. "You barely did anything. Why should I pay you for ten seconds of work?"
"I have a meeting in twenty minutes," he barked. "The engine is making a clicking sound. Fix it fast."
Sathya didn't rush. She listened to the car like it was breathing. She popped the hood, tightened a single bolt near the battery terminal, and told him to start it. The clicking was gone.
Sathya stood in her grease-stained overalls, wiping a wrench as a sleek, expensive car pulled into her garage. The driver, a man in a sharp suit, hopped out, looking frantic.