A Keyhole in the Shadow

A faint gleam of dull yellow caught my eye in the quiet corner. I padded softly across the boards toward the base of the heavy wardrobe. Right above its carved wooden foot sat an old brass keyhole, cold and slightly tarnished. I reached out and let my fingertips rest against the metal rim. Leaning in close, I peeked through the narrow slit. Only stillness and a faint scent of cedar floated out from the dark space inside.