The fluorescent hum of the "Quick-Fix" kiosk always made Leo feel like he was under interrogation. He stared down at his iPhone, the screen a spiderweb of glass that caught the light in jagged, mocking glints. One drop on a concrete sidewalk, and his digital life had been shattered.
Jax finally looked up, tapping a plastic tray. “If you want the real deal—Retina display, true colors—you head three blocks over to the Apple Store. They’ll do it right, but you’ll pay for the privilege and probably need an appointment you don't have.”
“That’s for the brave or the broke,” Jax said, pointing to the box labeled iFixit . “We sell the parts and the tools. You go home, watch a video, and pray your hands don’t shake. One wrong move with a ribbon cable and your phone becomes a very expensive paperweight.”
