A Ring of Keys

Dusk was falling, so I made my way from the garden bench toward the sheltered wooden shed. Near the low wooden threshold, something cool and metallic lay sprawled on the dark dirt. I paused, tilting my ears to listen to the evening crickets before creeping closer. It was a brass ring holding two tarnished old keys. I carefully pushed against the smallest key with both paws. It shifted across the gritty flagstone with a bright, glassy clink that rang softly in the quiet night air. Tucking myself beside the wooden doorframe, I listened as the faint chime settled.