Then she turned back to me.
« Fine. We’ll see. »
« Have you seen the lake house keys? »
The door clicked shut behind her. I stood there for a moment with a strawberry stem in my hand, feeling the strange chill of a sentence that shouldn’t have sounded like a threat but did.
I walked to the small shelf by the front door and placed the keys to the lake house on the wood, right next to the little clay bowl my daughter had made.
****
A few days later, I reached for the keys on the shelf by the door and found nothing but a ring of dust where they’d been.
I checked my purse. My coat pockets. The kitchen counter. The bowl of loose change by the microwave.
« No idea. »
« Daniel, have you seen the lake house keys? » I called toward the living room.
Continue on the next page:
