Second, the warmth. The shop is heated to a comfortable temperature that makes my cold cheeks tingle and burn slightlyas they adjust from the freezing temps outside. My fingers start to thaw, the numbness receding.
Third, the music—soft instrumental electronic music plays from hidden speakers, just loud enough to be pleasant background noise without being intrusive.
The owner emerges from behind the counter—a man in his forties with salt-and-pepper hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and an enthusiastic energy that radiates from him like he genuinely loves technology.
"Welcome, welcome!" he says warmly, extending his hand first to me, then to Theo. "I'm River, owner of TechSavvy. Your friend here was just asking about our inventory."
His handshake is firm but not aggressive. His scent is Beta—neutral and pleasant, mixed with coffee and something that smells like cinnamon.
"This shop is the only one in a fifty-mile radius that carries genuine, latest-model phones and laptops and tablets," River explains with obvious pride, gesturing around his well-organized space. "Other shops tried to open in nearby towns over the years—still do occasionally—but they'd deliver replica devices or cheap knockoffs to try to con small-town people who aren't very tech-savvy."
He pushes his glasses up his nose, his expression turning serious. "Took advantage of folks who just wanted to stay connected with their families, you know? Sold them phones that would break after three months or laptops that were basically expensive paperweights. Made me furious. So I opened this place five years ago, got proper certification from all the major brands, established direct relationships with Apple and Samsung and Google."
"That's really impressive," I say honestly, looking around at the legitimate displays. Everything looks professionally arranged and properly branded.
River beams. "Thank you! Now, in terms of what's best for different needs—Apple and Samsung are still the top contenders in the smartphone market. Apple has an incredibly supportive ecosystem if you're someone who needs seamless integration. Your iPhone talks to your MacBook, your iPad, your AirPods, everything. AirDrop alone is a game-changer for people who create content—photos, videos, documents all transfer wirelessly in seconds."
He moves to a display of Samsung devices. "But Samsung can do plenty for creators too. Their phones have exceptional cameras, their editing software is built right into the system, and you get more flexibility with app productivity and customization options. Really depends on what you're comfortable with and what your workflow looks like."
I find myself drifting toward the Apple display almost unconsciously, my eyes drawn to the sleek devices arranged on white pedestals under perfect lighting.
The latest iPhone sits there like a jewel—all smooth edges and pristine glass and that unmistakable Apple aesthetic. I pick up the display model carefully, feeling the weight of it in my hand. It's so much lighter than my current phone, so much thinner.
It's about time I upgrade. My phone is a refurbished iPhone 11 that I bought two years ago for two hundred dollars from a guy on Facebook Marketplace. It works fine—mostly—but it's in the line of models that won't be able to update after the next iOS update. Which means apps will start failing, security will be compromised, and it'll essentially become obsolete.
But the thought of buying something this expensive—even with the credit card literally sitting in my pocket with my name embossed on it—makes my stomach clench with anxiety.
The card has no limit, they said. Use it for whatever you need, they said. But this feels like such a huge purchase. Whatif they didn't mean something this expensive? What if there's an unspoken limit I'm supposed to intuitively know about? What if I'm being too greedy?
I set the display model back down carefully and turn to River. "Do you have any refurbished models? Maybe not the iPhone 11, but perhaps the 12 or 13?"
River nods thoughtfully. "I do have a few refurbished units in stock. Good condition, tested thoroughly, come with a ninety-day warranty."
But then I remember what he said about updates. The 12 and 13 will probably lose support after next year, which means I'll be right back in this same position twelve months from now, needing to buy another phone if I'm seriously building my social media presence.
River must see the conflict on my face because he asks gently, "Are you a content creator? Social media?"
I laugh nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I'm somewhat of a micro-influencer trying to build myself up. Very micro. Like, extremely micro. Basically invisible on the influencer scale."
"Can I check out your content?" he asks with genuine interest.
I pull out my current phone—scratched screen protector, slightly cracked case that I've been meaning to replace for months—and navigate to my Instagram profile with fingers that shake slightly from nervousness.
"I'm trying to do more lives and video content," I explain as I hand him my phone. "But the quality goes in and out a lot depending on my connection, and now that I want to seriously up my content game and maybe go full-time with this, I'm concerned about running out of storage space constantly. I'm always having to delete old photos and videos to make room for new ones."
River takes my phone and starts scrolling through my profile with the practiced eye of someone who understands social media metrics. His eyebrows rise progressively higher with each swipe. He lets out a low, impressed whistle that makes both Theo and Nash turn to see what he's reacting to.
"Your profile is actively growing right now," he says, sounding genuinely excited for me. "Look at these view counts on your recent videos! And your engagement rate is fantastic. People aren't just watching—they're commenting, sharing, saving your posts."
I pout slightly, leaning over to see what he's seeing on my own phone screen. My eyes widen so much they probably look cartoon-like.
The notification icon at the top of the screen shows 99+ hearts. Ninety-nine plus. That means at least ninety-nine notifications, possibly hundreds.
That's not normal. That's not my normal. I usually get maybe ten to fifteen notifications a day if I'm lucky. Twenty on a really good day. But ninety-nine plus? That's insane.
I take my phone back from River with hands that are suddenly trembling. My fingers shake as I tap on my profile stats.
The follower count number makes my breath catch in my throat.
