A Turn of the Brass Key

I climbed down from the crate and made my way toward the back fence, where a small brass padlock hung loosely from a latch on an old wooden storage box. The metal was dull with age, but the keyhole was clear. Sitting in the dry dirt right beneath it was a small flat key attached to a rusted split ring. I picked it up with both hands, aligned the notched blade, and slid it into the barrel. It resisted slightly, then seated fully. Bracing my boots against the cedar plank, I twisted the ring clockwise with both palms. A sharp mechanical snap echoed inside the brass casing, and the shackle popped open.