Raymond noticed the shift and also noticed the growing attention around them, yet instead of stopping the situation he continued playing along with it. He said casually, “You can walk away, but that might look interesting on camera,” which caused June’s fingers to tremble slightly.
She looked at the phones, then at the open hood, and finally back at him before speaking again with a steadier tone that carried more resolve than before. “If I look at it, you stop talking, no jokes, and no filming in my face,” she said, holding her ground despite the attention.
The laughter faded slightly as people realized she was serious, and Raymond raised his eyebrows with mild amusement while replying, “Fine, you have one minute.” The crowd quieted just enough to watch more closely, uncertain how the situation would unfold.
June stepped forward slowly and approached the open hood, but she was too short to see properly and quickly looked around for something to stand on. She spotted a small wooden stool beside a newspaper stand, dragged it across the sidewalk, and climbed up with careful movements.
Her sleeve brushed against the polished surface of the car, and she flinched instinctively as if expecting to be scolded for touching something expensive. No one said anything, and she leaned forward to listen carefully to the engine area despite the noise of the street around her.
She remembered the clicking sound from earlier and recognized it as something she had encountered before, often connected to power not reaching where it should. Her eyes moved across the engine with focused attention, guided by experience rather than formal training.
At home, broken things were never replaced easily, so she had learned to observe closely, to listen for small details, and to understand which problems could still be fixed. She checked the battery first and noticed a cable that was slightly loose, not disconnected but unstable enough to interrupt the flow of power.
One of the young men laughed quietly and said, “She really thinks she knows what she is doing,” and June froze for a moment as her shoulders lifted slightly. Then she whispered, “Please stop,” in a tone that carried exhaustion more than fear, and the street grew noticeably quieter.