A Weighted Anchor

I set out from the study baseboard into the living room, heading toward the quiet floor near the magazine rack. Resting flat against the oak grain was a solid brass key with an ornate clover bow. I halted two paces away, calculating its heft before committing to move it. Bracing both stubby legs against the floorboards, I leaned my plush shoulder into the brass stem. It slid forward with a heavy, muted scrape, rotating neatly until its shaft slotted into the narrow groove beneath the wicker stand. It holds steady, creating a solid new anchor.