`WHAT?!” I yell out, a little too loud, in indignancy of the repairman’s courage to ask me to pay a hundred dollars for a new front wheel on my bicycle, as he smiles at me friendly, knowing he is about to cash-in. I asked him to replace it with a used wheel, and he said he would. Apparently this still has to cost a hundred dollars. I start digging in my purse to find my wallet. Must have tucked it away very well last time, because I am having trouble retrieving it from the bottom. Sometimes it feels like I have a purse like Hermione in Harry Potter, who manages to pull complete tents out of her tiny purse. Finally, I find my wallet.
The repairman has replaced his friendly look with an impatient look as I try to rip out my debitcard. As I am doing this a little bit too roughly, I pull open the coin compartment and unwillingly start torpedoing the now angry-looking repairman with quarters and dimes. A brave dollar finds his way all the way to the door and seems to want to get out of the store as desperately as I do by this time. As I bend down to pick it up, more luck strikes me. On the other side, someone opens the door and with a smack it stops against my head. Great, just what I needed today, is the last thought that slips through my head before the world turns black for just a few moments.
I open my eyes to see the repairman, now bearing a look that is a mixture of fury and scared shitless, hanging over me. His greasy right hand is holding my left arm, probably to check my pulse. I sit up as fast as I can yelling: “I am not dead, you fool!” Bad idea. The blackness tries to find a way back into my head and the bicycle store starts spinning around me. With my hands and arms almost flailing I manage to settle a balance and again look at the repairman who’s face is now formed in an annoyed grin. So many emotions passing by today. I look to the other side and see the well-formed legs of the culprit, fancy dressed in a pair of so-called worn jeans. He’s holding a wet rag that looks like it has just been used to wipe the inside of twelve motorbikes and he is clearly looking for a way to hand it to me without smearing me with grease.
“No thanks…”I wave at him and as I raise my hand to make a gesture to enforce my words, he grabs my hand and with a swift motion he pulls me back to my feet. His and my face are now apart by about 2 inches and I am looking, for the first time today, at a warm, welcoming and slightly apologizing smile. “I really do apologize. I wasn’t trying to kill you really.” He says with a smile while holding out his hand to me. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
By now I have found my way back to consciousness and I am starting to feel the consequences of his little accident trying not to kill me. I feel a huge bruise forming on my forehead and as I rub my hand over it, I notice it has already started to form a bump. Great, just what I needed, a huge bump on my forehead like a five-year old.
“Well, if you know any secrets to get rid of bumps on ones forehead, that would be nice.” I hear my voice is still not what it’s supposed to be.
The repairman has found his way back behind the counter and seems to be tapping his fingers impatiently on the surface. I look at him, for the first time seriously pissed today and my sudden turn-of-the head startles him. He stops and the impatient look on his face changes. In the meantime, my attacker is still standing about 2 inches away from me, still looking at me in an apologetic way so I decide to turn my attention back to him.
“How about a cup of coffee on me?” he finally replies. His answer startles me. I must be a little mixed up from the collision. Did he just ask me out?
“I must say, being abused and asked for coffee in the same afternoon by the same guy I a first. Or it is in that order anyways.” I give him my sweetest smile and he’s giving his back. “I’m Alex by the way.” He says as he, again, sticks his hand out to me. We’re about to walk out of the store as I hear someone clear his throat.
“Oh shit!” I yell out. The stupid repairman. The whole reason I was here. So one more time I draw my wallet and this time I manage to pay successfully. Alex has taken my bicycle outside for me and is waiting there for me with a broad smile on his face. “Sadly my mean s of transportation don’t leave any room for yours.” He says as he points as his little city car. “Why don’t we share mine?” I offer him. I hop onto the back as he starts riding it onto the road. Just about fifteen yards on our way we hit a speedbump and luck will it be, the front wheel breaks off….
