Aug 9, 2025
Key 147, I Think
She tilted her head, smiling like she knew something I didn’t. “What’s this one for?” I asked. “Doesn’t matter. It’s yours.”
The envelope was thin, almost nothing inside except that one heavy, cold key. On the back — 147.
I wanted to laugh. She didn’t. She said there were 200 keys total, scattered in places that weren’t really places. Rooms that felt like trains. Trains that felt like parties. Parties that weren’t parties at all.
I told her it was weird. She agreed. But when her knee brushed mine under the table, I thought: Maybe weird isn’t the right word.
