“I feel useless.”

“You’re not.”

“It doesn’t matter. That’s how I feel.”

I wish I was a bicycle. Silly, I know, but think of it. Throw me in the back of the car and take me down to the shop and…

“Twenty dollars, she’ll be good as new.”

Liar. We tried that. Once you’re broken, no matter how much tinkering, you’re never quite right. The wheel wobbles just a bit. The brake rubs. The kickstand is loose. The tire has a slow leak... 

“Can I get a receipt?”