Three Baby Cribs and a Missing Set of Car Keys
My mother dropped us off at three o’clock, helping me carry the sleeping babies back into the nursery. The house was hot, the air conditioning struggling against the afternoon heat. Once the babies were settled in their cribs, I walked straight to the master bedroom closet.
I reached into the top drawer of my dresser, feeling past the cedar blocks to the back corner where we kept the spare household keys. My fingers brushed against the small velvet box.
I opened it.
The small silver key ring was missing.
The spare key to my sedan, which had been there on Tuesday, was gone.
I walked back to the front hallway and looked at the brass hooks on the wall.
The hook where my everyday keys belonged was completely empty.
The kitchen screen door tapped shut behind my brother, Shaun, before I could even turn around from the hallway. He carried a heavy brown paper bag containing two jugs of whole milk and a loaf of bread, setting them on the yellow laminate counter with a dull thud. He looked at me, then his eyes drifted past my shoulder to the empty brass hooks by the door.
