The Key Rack

I stepped down from the bedside table and made my way to the wooden console near the door. Mounted low against the wall was a dark iron key rack with four square hooks. I stood motionless on the polished wood for several minutes, looking at the empty spaces. Next to the stand lay an abandoned metal washer, slightly askew on the timber grain. With a gentle tap of my nose, I guided the washer until it sat squarely centered below the first brass hook. Then I leaned my back against the wall, perfectly in line with the neat metal pegs.