Forgotten Brass

I slipped through the gap beneath the screen door and stepped out onto the porch. The world out here was wide, and my footsteps felt very small against the rough gray stone. Sitting right near the edge of the first step was an old, tarnished brass key, partly covered by a brittle leaf. I knelt down and brushed the dirt away. The metal was heavy and cold, left behind as if nobody needed whatever it used to unlock. I gently nudged it forward with both hands until it caught the warm noon light. Sitting there together, it didn't feel quite so lonely.