I turn the key in the lock, the familiar click signaling the start of another day at The Novel Grind. Mrs. Elkins is reading a book in one of our plush, overstuffed armchairs, content to let me take over her morning chores.
"Keep the door open, dear," she says, flipping a page and squinting through her bifocals. "An open door brings traffic, and it's such a nice morning."
The heavy door is a beast to prop open, and I wonder how Mrs. Elkins has managed all these years. Eventually, I find the sweet spot to jam the doorstop in, but sweat is gathering in my armpits by the time I figure it out.
I take a moment to breathe in the pine-fresh air, enjoying the chill that curls into my lungs as the sun warms my face. A soft whine catches my attention and I glance down in surprise at the silver husky sitting just outside the door, its tail thumping gently against the sidewalk.