Gold Digger – Story 19 – THE KEY

Sunday.

Raining.

I was cleaning my bag.

Not for any particular reason – the bag just needed cleaning, which happens when you’ve been carrying the same one for three weeks because it’s the right size for everything and you keep meaning to switch and you don’t.

I found the usual things.

Receipts I didn’t need. A lipstick I’d been looking for since October. Two hair ties and a pen that doesn’t work and a card from a restaurant I went to with Claire that I’d kept for no reason I could currently justify.

Then I found the key.

I’ve looked at that key a hundred times.

Taken it out, put it back, registered its weight, moved on.

That’s what I always do.

Today I just – held it.

Silver. Small. A scratch near the bow that was already there when he gave it to me and I never asked about.

I never asked.

I sat on the edge of my bed in the Sunday quiet with the rain doing what rain does and I turned it over in my hand and I thought about four months.

Here’s what I know about the key.

D gave it to me because I’d been locked out once – his fault, he’d borrowed something and forgotten to tell me – and he’d said just take it the way he says most things. Like it was obvious. Like it was the only sensible solution.

I said I didn’t need it.

He said I know and put it in my hand anyway.

I’ve had it ever since.

He never asked for it back.

Not once.

Not after I left before sunrise.

Not after weeks without texting.

Not after the emergency contact.

Not after the coffee I never stayed for.

I looked at the key.

Then I thought about the empty space on the hook by his door.

I stopped that thought immediately.

Which is usually a sign it’s important.

I sat there for a while.

The rain.

The key.

The specific weight of something I’ve been carrying for four months while telling myself it was nothing.

Then I got up.

Didn’t put it back in the bag.

Put it in my coat pocket instead.

I’m not analyzing that.

Spreadsheet status: Richard → dinner four: this week. 

Noah → under review. still surprising me.

 D → [row does not exist] key: still here. four months. he never asked for it back.

 I moved it to my coat pocket. I’m not analyzing that. – Mila