A Seasoned Key
Nov 3 · 3 min read

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…
