You better fix this. He stands at the entrance in a sweater vest and baseball cap, waiting for me to come to him. I’m alone in the shop. I’d love to sir, but I’ll need you to remove your hat. He looks past me, tells me the glasses are wrong and crooked and for the amount of money we charge the quality should be better. French jazz drones. The Patek Philippe on his wrist is worth triple my salary; the exposed hardware on the face sparkles. Would you like to take a seat? He sits down and opens his legs wide. You better fix this or I want a refund. I walk behind him as he removes his cap. A pause between songs on the playlist, soft ticking from his wrist. His brown hair is lightly buzzed on the sides. The temple of his frames is loose on the right; an easy fix. I hook it tighter around his ear and move to the left. Where the temple would hook is a hole the width of a nostril. He’s quiet now. I’ll fix this, I say. After heating the acetate, I mold it to the shape of his head and secure it. Is there anything else I can do for you? He puts his cap back on, checks his watch, and waits for me to open the door.