I took the key to the locksmith. It was a small key, round at the top, silver, just a few etches down below, with T1467 printed tinily along the side. It certainly wasn’t a house key or a car key. It could’ve been the key to the drawer I found it in, maybe a spare, since the drawer had been locked. But, hey, it could’ve been the key to Fort Knocks, for all I knew. Fort Knocks being the gym down the street from me.
The locksmith took the key and plugged the numbers on the side into his computer. He turned his screen my way. An image of a filing cabinet appeared. I recognized it, or at least one that looked just like it.
“That’ll be twenty bucks,” said the locksmith.
“I could’ve done that on my own, right?”
He nodded. “That’ll be twenty bucks.”
I paid the man. I hoped that when the comp
