Pawndex

He’d given her fifty dollars just to see her leave. Now, alone, his curiosity was a living thing.

He turned the crank.

Click. Ding. Click. Ding. Click. Ding.

Click.

The creature that shuffled in was a dog. Or had been. A golden retriever, but its fur was patchy, its ribs a xylophone, and its eyes were the color of sour milk. It didn’t bark. It just walked to the center of the floor, lay down, and sighed—a sound that smelled of dust and forgotten birthdays. pawndex

Disappointed, Elias was about to turn away when he heard it. A soft scrabble at the shop’s back door. Then a wet snuffling . He grabbed the baseball bat from under the counter. The lock clicked open by itself.

“No,” Elias breathed.

He hadn’t turned it. The brass crank was spinning on its own.