As Abel heard the bell above the door ring, he got up from his chair, stretching his limbs as he wiped his hands to the towel he’d kept on the table; right next to his latest target of tinkering. He fixed his shirts’ rolled sleeves and walked to the front of the shop, giving the incomer a small, polite smile.
“Good afternoon,” he said and moved a little closer to the desk separating the back room from the rest of the shop. “Can I help you?”



















