The Key

The Key

My coat was at the cleaners; we’d finally had a string of warm days. Of course that day hadn’t cooperated, cold, with spits of rain in windy gusts. Grabbing my old jacket, I hurried to the train.

Settled in for the ride I’d had to sneeze. Forgetting I had on my old coat, I automatically reached in my pocket for the tissue that should have been there, sneezing into my sleeve on the way. But, hand in pocket, I realized it was not the pocket I was expecting.

There were odd things there, sand for one. When had I worn this jacket last? I cupped the items in my hand lifting them out carefully. A shell, a small pebble and a dried out leaf? The leaf was Maple, that ruled out ocean. Still trying to remember, I reached into the other pocket. It contained a single key.

Recognizing the key, I struggled to remember from where. The playground! I’d found it when I took Janet’s daughter to the playground last fall. It was in the sandbox. I’d meant to ask around, but just then Celia scraped her knee and, totally distracted, I’d shoved it in my pocket.

It was a small key, old, probably given to a child to play with and immediately lost. I thought it might look good on a chain as a necklace or bracelet. As the sun from the window hit it I could see writing on the small shaft. It was too small to read, but I had a magnifying glass at work.

Forgotten again till I was ready to leave, I hurried excitedly over to the magnifying glass. There on the shaft were these words:

“I’ve finally found you! We will meet in your next dream.”

I haven’t slept for three days.