The morning rain had settled into that familiar city drizzle that never quite committed to becoming a storm. It slicked the sidewalks with a reflective sheen and turned every passing streetlight into a blurred ribbon of gold across the pavement. By the time Adrian pulled his jacket tighter and stepped beneath the large yellow-and-black awning of The Foundation Grounds Café, he was more interested in warmth than curiosity.

The bell over the door rang with a heavy metallic CLANG that sounded less like a bell and more like someone striking a steel beam with a hammer. Adrian paused just inside the entrance and narrowed his eyes as he looked around. The entire place looked like someone had taken a construction site, removed all of the danger, and then somehow convinced it to become a coffee shop.

The walls were unfinished concrete and decorated with framed blueprints and old warning signs. Bright orange safety cones separated waiting areas, caution tape hung in decorative strips near ceiling beams, and the menu itself had been painted onto a giant sheet of plywood bolted to the wall. Even the tables looked suspiciously like polished wooden cable spools, and the chairs looked like someone had stolen seats from heavy machinery and padded them slightly for legal reasons.

A man wearing a neon yellow safety vest looked up from behind the counter and offered a welcoming smile. Behind him, coffee machines hissed and steamed while tiny yellow warning lights blinked gently around the shelves. Adrian stared for a moment before cautiously approaching.

"Morning," the man said cheerfully. "Welcome to Foundation Grounds."

Adrian looked him over carefully. "Do... you work construction?"

The man looked down at himself and laughed softly. "Oh, nah. Barista."

Adrian nodded slowly. "Right."

Nearby, someone in a hardhat carried a tray of muffins between tables while another employee adjusted a tiny blinking construction beacon near a shelf of mugs. In the corner, two businessmen sat beneath a sign reading SAFETY GLASSES REQUIRED DURING PEAK HOURS while casually discussing quarterly reports over espresso. No one seemed remotely bothered by anything around them, which somehow made Adrian more uncomfortable instead of less.

He looked back toward the giant plywood menu and squinted at the names written across it. Drinks with names like Jackhammer Mocha, Concrete Cold Brew, Steamroller Latte, and Decaf Demolition stretched down the board in neat painted lettering. Adrian decided that asking questions would probably make things worse.

"I'll take..." Adrian leaned forward slightly. "Uh... medium coffee."

The barista nodded and tapped something into the register. "Certainly. Would you like a piano with that?"

Adrian blinked twice.

For several long seconds neither of them said anything at all. Adrian simply stared at the man while the man stared back with the patient expression of someone waiting for a customer to decide whether they wanted whipped cream. Eventually Adrian looked back up at the menu as if the answer might somehow appear there.

"...I'm sorry?" Adrian asked.

"A piano," the barista repeated. "Would you like one with that?"

Adrian's eyes traveled slowly down the menu again. He found pastries, extra espresso shots, flavored syrups, breakfast sandwiches, and seasonal drinks. He did not find pianos.

"I'm not seeing that up there," Adrian said carefully.

"Oh, no," the barista replied. "It's separate."

"Separate?"

"Yeah."

Adrian turned slightly and glanced around the café. Nobody appeared concerned in the slightest. A woman near the window calmly stirred cream into her coffee while reading the morning newspaper, and an older man near the pastry case took a sip of tea while adjusting a yellow hardhat hanging from his chair.

Adrian looked back toward the counter with uncertainty written all over his face. He considered asking further questions, but his instincts had failed him enough times already today. Eventually he gave a weak shrug.

"...Sure."

The barista's face brightened immediately. "Excellent choice."

Then he reached beneath the counter and pressed a large red button.

A deafening siren suddenly erupted through the café.

BWOOOOOOOOOOOP

Everything changed instantly. The businessmen dove beneath their table with military precision, the newspaper woman folded her paper and rolled behind a concrete pillar, and employees disappeared behind reinforced counters with frightening speed. Yellow emergency lights began spinning overhead while somewhere in the distance someone shouted, "PIANO ORDER!"

Adrian nearly jumped out of his skin.

"What is happening?!" he yelled.

The barista was already crouching behind the counter. "TAKE COVER, SIR!"

"What do you MEAN TAKE COVER?!"

A deep mechanical groan echoed from somewhere above them. Adrian slowly lifted his head and looked upward as his mind began connecting several details all at once. The ceiling had massive steel beams running across it, yellow target circles had been painted on sections of the floor, and directly above where he was standing there appeared to be long seams cut into the ceiling panels.

The roof exploded inward.

Wood splintered violently and metal screamed as dust and insulation burst into the air. A massive black grand piano descended through the opening with horrifying speed and slammed into the floor with enough force to shake the entire building.

KRAAAAAAAAAASH

Coffee cups rattled violently across tables and hanging light fixtures swayed back and forth overhead. Somewhere nearby glass shattered while chunks of concrete skidded across the floor. Then, after all of the chaos and noise had passed, silence slowly settled over the café.

Bits of ceiling tile drifted lazily through the air like snow.

Adrian stood motionless.

The grand piano sat perfectly upright in the center of a crater of broken concrete and shattered debris. Its lid had sprung dramatically open during impact, and after a few quiet seconds one lonely key softly played itself.

Ding.

People slowly emerged from cover as if nothing unusual had happened. The businessmen brushed dust from their suits and sat back down, the newspaper woman calmly unfolded her paper again, and an employee walked over carrying a clipboard.

"Impact looks good," he announced after peering into the crater. "Very clean drop today."

The barista stood back up and smiled proudly. "Excellent landing. We've been improving the suspension release system."

Adrian stared at him with wide, horrified eyes. He looked at the hole in the roof, then at the piano, then back at the barista, and his mouth hung open slightly as his brain desperately attempted to process reality.

He pointed wildly toward the crater.

"THAT CAME THROUGH THE CEILING!" he shouted. "YOU ASKED ME THAT LIKE IT WAS A MUFFIN! YOU DON'T CASUALLY ASK SOMEONE IF THEY WANT A PIANO!"

The entire café stared at him.

The barista blinked once.

"...Would you like cream and sugar with that?"