The Whispering Lantern

I waddled back inside from the patio breeze, glad to feel the familiar fuzzy carpet beneath my base. Beside the shoe rack stood an old metal lantern, dark and quiet for the night. Squeezing through its open decorative door, I snuggled into the cool glass corner. A tiny forgotten key hung from a hook on the lantern's center post, swaying ever so slightly. Ducking deep into my orange rim, I reached out one stubby nub to brush the cold iron key. It gave a faint, glassy chime against the pane. I bobbed up into the dusk with a proud little whisper.