The Key

And to you he gives a key

No, he did not say what it’s for

He mentioned that you’ll find out soon enough

Apparently, this key will be of more value to you than anyone else

More important to him than anything else in his will

The key is rusted green

The keys teeth are worn and so oxidized that they seem useless

A memory of him catches your selfish thought midair-

He always meant well.

Maybe this opens a small box in the basement, a fortune worth more than his house

Or maybe not

You think about how much he did in his life.

You think that the key is not a tool to fill your bank account

The key is meant to remind you of how you should live.

You walk upstairs to your room holding it

On step 4 you fall and bust your lip

You look down as the key falls and lands next to the staircase

Your mother yells from the dining room, “You alright?”

“Yeah, fine.”

As you approach the key you notice a small box on the table next to the stairs

It looks just as old

But nope, it does not fit.

Maybe it’s the rust or maybe it’s just the wrong lock

Or maybe, uh oh

Your selfishness tears through any meta-thought you try to muster in that moment

“All I got was this god damn key” you mutter

Back up to your room now

You sit in bed staring at the key

You miss dinner

You miss your grandfather

You miss the point of the key, again

Stop being selfish you think

But Tina got the house

Mom got his car

Theresa got about 10 paintings

This one pissed you off

All the youthful days you spent with him coloring and connecting over art

And you didn’t get any of them

They’ll sell those or forget what they owned

His material ghost sits in your hand and you pout over the paintings

After a deep defeated breath, you go downstairs to feed off some scraps of supper

Mom gets a call from Theresa

She tried opening Papa’s painting studio

It was locked.