Rosie gave up on sitting. The moment was just gone. On her way back to the garage she found two more of the handbills. One of them was different: this one read:
'Tired? Perplexed? Whatever Troubles You, the Clockwork Book has Heard It Before. Free appraisals and consultations!'
She shook her head and threw all the handbills into the trash.
Henry Hall was a good customer but Rosie rarely saw him. That's because those racing flyboys like to tinker with their own rockets. They'd rather nobody else knew exactly what they'd been up to under the hood. So it was important that Rosie's work would impress him. But, criminy! What he wanted was just about like re-inventing everything about how his rocket's indicators worked. It was a big problem, which was probably why he'd finally come to Rosie's Garage.
She looked at her model of Henry's engine. How could she take all of its systems and make better sense of how each one was performing, without using the same dials and gauges that everybody always used? Sometimes, she mused, when everybody does things the same way, there's a reason for it.
But not always, of course.
No closer to an answer, Rosie decided to break for lunch. She saw a tiny figure scuttling away down the street. Rosie wasn't really surprised by the fresh handbill that had been tacked onto the fence. There was another one in her mailbox.
This was starting to look a little bit persona