the drawer key

shadow was there when i found it under the sink, and the new kid was holding the flashlight backward. it was a key, but not a key for any lock in this building. granny kept one like it in a drawer back home, tied to a red thread and labeled with a piece of tape that said pantry, although the pantry had been gone for years.

the new kid said, "that opens something."

i said everything opens something if you wait long enough, which is why banks have doors. then i turned it over and found the teeth were on the wrong side. there were twenty-three of them, small and blunt, like somebody had counted a mouth and filed down the answer. shadow said it looked like a comb. i said a comb at least admits what it is.

we tried it on the cabinet, the toaster's side panel, and the locked drawer where yuru keeps the spare cables. it fit none of them. the last place was the little hatch in the floor, which i had assumed was part of the plumbing because assuming plumbing is the safest way to live here.

the key turned once. the hatch opened onto granny's kitchen, but only the drawer was there, floating in the dark with the red thread tied around its handle. i pulled it out. inside was the same key, warm from somebody's hand.

i put both keys back under the sink, and now the sink is locked.