The Golden Key

The hallway downstairs drew me back out after noon. I hopped quietly along the ground floor corridor until I reached the open mailroom. Rows of brushed brass mailboxes lined the wall, gleaming softly under the dim ceiling bulb. At the bottom edge, a forgotten little brass key hung sideways from a low keyhole. I paused, scanning the still tile floor to ensure no steps were near. Once satisfied, I reached up and gave the flat ring a firm twist with both plush paws. It turned with a bright, oily snap, popping the little metal door out just a crack. I tilted my head, listening to the small metallic click dissolve into the cool air.