The Key

                Four friends, on their way downtown to grab hold of their youth and utilise the vivid life within them. Their energy, their spirit and their belief that any night time adventure will bring nothing but glory and success. Their resting place, the pub. A pint here and there for the opening hours until intoxication overcomes logic and safety so hard liquor becomes the sweet nectar that is craven. Hours upon hours of laughter and comradery all come to end by the wishes of a tired and grouchy bartender.

                Next is the walk home. Despite its overall familiarity because of the years of living in the town, it turns into an adventurous experience because the eyes see what they want to see and it is only human to want to see greatness, even if it isn’t necessarily there. The heightened emotions from drinking alcohol causes singing, dancing and falling. But of all the emotions to come out on this one particular night, curiosity is the one to spike.

                Through the streets, a faint glimmer emerges from a potted plants. The sickly orange glow of the street lights reveals a hidden treasure. Three friends continue on their jovial stroll home but one remains to discover.

“Hey guys, wait up, check this out.”

Brought to a screeching halt from their banter the group returns and swarms around the plant-life. They all simultaneously inspect whatever could be sticking out of the dirt. One brave soul dares to touch it and remove it from its resting place.

“It’s a key.”

“A key?”

“A key to what?”

“A key to a lock.”

Bad jokes are always to drag out a groan from those who are even the most susceptive to humour.

“Is there a key chain?”

“Nope.”

“Is there anything written on it?”

“Yeah there’s some numbers but I can’t really see them. Someone shine a light.”

“401.”

“401?”

“Is it an address?”

“No house goes up to that high a number around here.”

“A postal box, maybe?

“Where is there a postal box near here?”

“Then what?”

“Well there’s a hotel around the corner maybe it’s a room key.”

Congratulatory pats on the back ensue.

“So should we return it?”

Silence

“In the morning.”

“In the morning”

The phrase echoes through every mouth. The walk home continues but the mood and pace of the night has changed. No everyone has become enamoured with the key.

“So how do you think it got there?”

“Who do you think lost it?”

“I think the most important question is, what is in the room?”