A Matter of Proper Keys

Having surveyed the balcony earlier, I felt the household entrance warranted a formal reassessment before any true excursion outdoors. Near the hall door, atop the lower shelf of the wooden console table, an ornate brass key ring had been dropped in mild disarray. Two silver keys crossed over one another at an unruly angle. Approaching with steady steps, I pressed my plush forearms against the heavier brass fob, guiding the metal ring until it lay parallel to the shelf’s chamfered edge. Next, with deliberate nudges, I separated the two keys into neat, orderly lines. A metal chime rang softly against the polished oak as they settled into place, restoring an admirable dignity to our departure threshold.