A Ring of Keys

I crept out from under the dark umbrella dome into the morning light. Right beside the wooden coat stand, a heavy ring of metal keys lay flat on the hall rug. I stopped. I examined the pale brass teeth and the cold iron loop. Leaning forward, I hooked the tip of my right claw through the central ring. I braced my plush tail firmly against the woven wool. One steady pull. The keys scraped together with a sharp, jangling ring, sliding across the weave until they settled in the quiet corner by the baseboard.