The title was a warning I’d ignored, etched in the neon flicker of a sign outside a bar that smelled of damp wood and poor decisions. "The Night I Got Truly Wrecked" wasn’t just a summary; it was becoming a prophecy.

I didn't recognize the key. I didn't know where it came from. But as I stumbled toward my apartment, the "time traveler's" words rang in my ears.

I remember meeting a man in a velvet tuxedo who claimed to be a retired time traveler. He didn't have a watch, but he insisted that in twenty minutes, I would find something I had lost years ago. I laughed, a loud, echoing sound that seemed to bounce off the moon, and handed him my half-eaten pretzel as a "consultation fee."

I still don't know how it got into that fountain, or who that man was. All I know is that some nights are meant for losing your mind just so you can find something you didn't know you were missing.

The "wrecking" part happened when I decided the fountain in the central square was actually a portal to a better dimension. I stepped in, shoes and all. The water was freezing, shocking my brain back into a semblance of reality, but only for a second. As I climbed out, dripping and shivering, I realized I was holding a brass key.