Monday morning was the official start of the shop's regular business hours.
Ethan arrived at seven-forty-five AM, unlocked the front door, and stepped into his warm, beautiful shop.
The morning sun streamed through the big front window, lighting up the polished walnut floorboards, the exposed brick wall, and the long wooden workbench at the back.
He flipped the light switches, turned on the main power strip, and opened his small black leather notebook to check his daily repair schedule.
At eight-thirty, Leo walked in, holding two large coffee cups and a paper bag full of fresh croissants.
"Morning, boss!" Leo said cheerfully, setting the coffee down on the counter. "Ready to make some money?"
"Ready," Ethan said, picking up his coffee cup.
Before they could start, the front door swung open—smoothly, silently, effortlessly.
Mrs. Gable walked in, carrying a small, vintage 1955 portable record player in a blue leatherette case.
"Morning, boys," Mrs. Gable smiled warmly. "My neighbor's daughter found this in her attic yesterday. Thought I'd bring it to the best repair shop in the city."
Ethan stepped around the counter, a genuine, wide smile spreading across his face as he took the blue case from her hands.
"I'll take a look at it right now, Mrs. Gable," Ethan said.
He carried the old record player to his workbench, laid out his screwdrivers, turned on his warm overhead lamp, and began to work.
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