The bell on the top of the door jingled as I wheeled my rock hopper in. I had just taken a nasty spill but was fortunately no worse for the wear.
“Can I help you?” she asked, wiping the grease off her hands, stepping from behind the eighteen-speed road racer mounted on the rack.
“Broke my mirror, need a new one.”
She looked at my handlebars, walked to the back and pulled a box off the shelf.
She moved with the smooth, confident grace of an athlete comfortable in her own skin as she removed and replaced my mirror.
As she rang up my order
her green eyes focused on the screen
“That comes to twenty twenty seven”
she said in a quiet voice, smiling softly.
I placed my card in the chip reader,
and signed the receipt
“You’re very welcome. Have a safe ride.”