Gaty with A Matter of Brass Teeth

A low wooden crate of discarded brass keys sat on the doorstep of a curio shop, completely neglected. Most were ordinary, but one long skeleton key was wedged crookedly through the handle of a rusty key-ring, suspended at an absurd forty-five-degree tilt. I climbed up onto the edge of the crate to inspect the mechanism. Leaning my weight against the heavy bow of the key, I shimmied it free from the loop, letting it drop into a snug slot between two wooden dividers. I aligned its notched teeth so they faced parallel to the crate's grain. Much calmer now.