The key to life – Short story
She left the Sevens Pub just before closing. Her friends asked if they should get an Uber for her. “No” She replied, “I can walk to my Beacon Hill apartment,” which was located on Myrtle Street.
She stumbled her way up the hill, and struggled up the three steps to the front door of her apartment building. She rummaged through her bag looking for her keys. She remembered putting her keys in their, she was trying harder to improve her memory. She’d read in a self-help article online that you don’t lose things if you keep them in the same place. Routine is key.
Key? Where was the stupid thing? Out of frustration she tipped the contents of her handbag onto the doorstep. Then she glided her hand over the credit cards, papers etc.., and finally she spotted it. Ahh, the gleaming steel, with her shaky hand, she put the contents back into her bag, lastly picking up the keys, as she tried to get up, she tumbled, but was saved by the handrail, her keys fell into the grate below.
Filed Under: The key to life – don’t drink too much
