For seven years Frank stares at his keys. They just sit there on the corner of the entry hall table, unmoved. His eyes trace the curves around the keys. The lines are tracings left behind by his daughter’s dusting cloth.
He can still remember searching for them. He was late meeting a man, a man that could change his family’s life for the better.
He searced his pockets dozens of times. He felt blindly under the unseen world of his home’s furnishings. He obsessively searched a place that only held five sets of keys.
Tic-Tic.“I’m taking your bike Paula” he yelled as he wheeled it off the front porch.
He heard Sarah’s voice yelling from behind,“Daddy, I found ’em!” Frank turned around and grinned at his five year old daughter’s glinting prize just as the speeding truck ripped him from the front of her life.
Now here he is, anchored by those damn keys, watching his family pray for forgiveness.
Today, Paula curiously picked them up. Finally, after seven years, she didn’t recognize them.