It's the story...

...of a lost key.

Spoiler alert: this story has a happy ending.

But it began four months ago, when my house Key (and its old-fashioned avec that fits a second front door lock) went MIA.  No amount of searching, handbag ransacking, pocket combing, worrying or crying would bring it back.  I waited for Key to appear before my eyes for a week at least before I called the housing company.  I thought it had ended up in the trash bin, since that is the last time I saw my dear Key.  Perhaps it liked dumpster diving, or perhaps it decided to hibernate in a nearby snowbank.  Or perhaps someone key-napped it!

The housing company gave me permission for a new one (Key was one of those special ones that you can't just go out and copy at whim, you see), but informed me that for security reasons, I would have to pay 200-400 euros when I move out to have everyone's locks changed.  I gulped and prayed harder that some bright day, Key would come home.

That bright day was May Day, when I got a call from a friend of mine.  Key had possibly been sighted, all dirty and lusterless on the ground near her apartment.  My friend saw the May Day celebrators asking people if they had lost some keys.  Only a quick call away, I confirmed to her that it sounded like my Key was indeed in question!

But imagine my surprise when I held Key in my hand today, and didn't recognize it.  I almost said, "No, take it away, it's not mine."  But I could not resist hoping.  I took it home with me, and what do you know, it fit into the lock so smoothly and opened my door, that I had to do it twice to believe it! I still haven't gotten Key (or its rusty avec) to tell me what the big idea of burying itself in a playground snowbank was all about.  But I am so so so thankful to see it again, I don't care. 

Miracles do happen. What's lost can be found.

The end.