Joshua was lost in a fitful doze when a sharp, panicked scream sliced through the night’s hush. His eyes flew open. Lucky sprang to his feet beside him, ears pricked forward like tiny radars. Joshua blinked into the darkness, adrenaline surging through his veins like a sudden current. That wasn’t the slurred shout of a drunk or the bicker of a couple—this was a cry for help.
He jumped up, snatched his tattered bag, and hunkered low. “Quiet,” he hissed to Lucky, pressing a finger to his lips. The dog froze, body coiled tight as a wound spring. Another voice drifted over—muffled, male, and sharp with irritation. Joshua squinted toward the alley across the street. It was so dark he could barely make out shapes. But something was wrong in there, and he wasn’t going to stand by and wonder what.
He crept across the street, each step soft against the damp, slick pavement. Lucky padded right beside him, silent as a shadow, eyes scanning every corner. Joshua edged up to a dented dumpster at the alley’s mouth and peeked around. What he saw made his breath catch in his throat…
Earlier that day, Joshua had been crouched behind the café, sifting through trash bags with fingers numbed by cold. The air reeked of the sour tang of old meat and spoiled sauce, but he didn’t flinch—he knew exactly what he was hunting for. Lucky stayed close, tail wagging like he owned the grim little corner, his gaze darting back and forth as if keeping watch. Hope kept Joshua’s hands moving, even when his shoulders ached.
He never thought he’d end up here. Once, he had a family, a warm house, a job that made him look forward to mornings. Then tragedy struck—a collision that shattered everything in an instant. He lost his wife, his sense of safety, every anchor that had held his life together. The world kept spinning while he stood frozen in grief, and by the time he blinked awake, years had passed. Now it was just him and Lucky, scraping by one day at a time.