Quinn pushed harder on the door, refusing to admit that it was once again jammed. Setting her grocery bags on the floor, she walked downstairs. "Bob, my door's jammed again."
The older man stood up and sighed, "I'm so sorry, Quinn. I'm trying to get a permanent fix for that, but I just... well, money's tight right now and-"
"It's okay, Bob," she smiled gently at him. "I know how it is. I don't need a permanent fix for now... I just want into my apartment."
He chuckled and walked back up the creeking staircase, her in tow.
~ * ~
Nick walked over to the short and stalky middle-aged woman with red hair, wiping his greasy hands off with a towel. "Ma'am, you blew your engine."
"Oh, that's just great! How much is that going to cost????"
Nick sighed, "Approximately two thousand."
"Two thousand?! Two thousand?!?! You think I just have two thousand laying around???"
"I didn't say that, Ma'am."
"You insinuated it!"
"I'm sorry if you thought I was trying to insinuate that, Ma'am. But I wasn't. You asked how much it would cost, and I answered."
"I'll call later," she mumbled, before leaving the shop.
Nick sighed and wiped his sweaty forehead with his shirt sleeve. Just another day in the business of auto repair.
"D*mn, I need to get out of this," he muttered.
