My Wealthy Grandmother Left Me a Single Brass Key and No Inheritance
I looked at my reflection in the dark, greasy glass of the toaster on the counter. My face looked thinner than it had three years ago, the lines around my mouth deeper, my eyes tired from weeks of sleeplessness.
“What did I deserve?” I whispered to the empty room.
According to her will, I deserved nothing but the clothes I brought with me in my single suitcase.
Yet, the weight of the brass key in my palm felt different from the papers Mr. Bennett had read in his office. It was cold, solid, and real.
If she wanted to mock me from beyond the grave, I decided I would look her in the eye one last time.
I stood up, pocketed the brass key, and grabbed my coat from the back of the chair.
The starter in my old sedan groaned twice before the engine caught, shaking the rusted frame of the car. I backed out of the gravel parking lot and turned toward the north side of Oakhaven.
