A Seasoned Key

Ali Goodman
Nov 3 · 3 min read
Source: sphere (CC0)

The snow was not quite ankle deep and still floating in a graceful free fall down from the bright gray above. Why don’t I ever wear gloves, I wondered annoyed with myself while thumbing through every key on my keyring. Somewhere along the way I had dropped my house key. It was cold in my hand just moments ago. I scanned my fresh footsteps in the relatively untouched snow. They traced a wandering path from the sidewalk to the driveway, through the yard to the…

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Ali Goodman

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Pursuer of Inspiration & Meaning in all things

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