New Amsterdam was prettiest after it rained, in that brief, magical moment when the world’s vibrant colors returned. The city sighed with relief, shedding its grime for a fleeting heartbeat before the soot spread again, sucking the life and color back into its weary bones.


    My head felt heavy and foggy as I spotted Mel’s Diner up ahead. The mostly empty parking lot brought a sense of relief. No long wait, and less chance of bumping into old acquaintances. It was quiet as I approached the entrance, the only sounds being the clacking of my footsteps and the rustle of the newspaper tucked under my arm.


    Time to grab a bite and maybe a slice of normalcy, if only for a moment.


    A scruffy dog with matted fur and a snaggletooth poking out of its jowls trotted out from a nearby alley. It startled me just enough that I almost tripped over him.


    “Damn it, Sarge,” I muttered.


    His fur was a patchwork of dirty white and brown, and one ear stood while the other flopped down. His eyes, a mismatched pair of blue and brown, met mine with a mix of curiosity and desperation. He sniffed the air, then seemed to recognize my scent and decided I was still a friend, which brought me a small comfort. His tail wagged furiously, but his body was tense, as if he was deciding whether to trust me or bolt.


    Sarge, a mutt with a heart as big as the city, was the unofficial guardian of this block. He was a stray who’d earned his keep through loyalty and a fierce, if often misdirected, protective instinct.


    As I moved to step past him, he tugged on my pant leg with surprising strength, trying to pull me back from the diner. I knelt down, ruffling the fur behind his ears, and he leaned into my hand, whining softly.


    “Not now, boy,” I said, giving him a gentle pat on the head. “I can’t play right now.”Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    He hesitated, then relented, sitting back on his haunches with a resigned huff. I straightened up and pushed open the diner door, the familiar clang of the door chimes ringing out as I entered.


    I slid onto a stool at the counter, nodding to the waitress, Sally. She was a staple here, with a beehive hairdo and a pen tucked behind her ear.


    “The usual, Jack?” Sally asked with a smirk.


    “Extra sauce this time.”


    She nodded and poured me a coffee. Black. I took a sip and frowned. Nothing. Tasted of nothing.


    I sat, lost in thought. The diner was a vibrant slice of Americana: red vinyl booths, chrome stools, and the low buzz of a jukebox in the corner playing some forgotten tune. The usual smell of frying bacon and brewing coffee fell dead on my senses, like a memory I couldn’t quite grasp. My fingers absently played with the key in my hand, tracing its intricate design. I didn’t recall taking it out of my pocket.


    “How did you get all the way out here?” I whispered to it, my eyes locked on the silver filigree.


    Sally interrupted my thoughts by setting a cheeseburger with extra sauce and fries in front of me. “That’s a pretty little thing,” she remarked, her eyes lingering on the key. Without thinking, I carefully tucked it away in my pocket and took a sip of my flavorless coffee.


    “It’s just an old souvenir,” I lied, my voice flat. I took a bite of the burger, chewing mechanically. The taste was a distant echo, barely there.


    The door clanged open again, and two unfamiliar men strode in. They immediately caught my attention with their slick suits and polished shoes.


    I shook off the unease settling in my stomach and pushed any thoughts of Aylin and her cursed music box to the back of my mind.


    I did my part. I checked on it, like I said I would. I could drop it here.


    I heard Sarge bark outside.


    As I lifted my mug to my lips, I felt the cold, hard barrel of a gun press against my back. The sudden pressure jolted me, and I froze.


    “Hand over your cash,” the voice said, nasal and thick, like he was trying too hard to sound tough.