It is a green key; I find it beautiful. Always? ofcourse not, nothing can be beautiful for ever; not even a lifeless piece of metal. But I stick on because I dont have any other Key. One fateful day, I find a red key. I wasnt looking for it though. I found it on marsh land. I walk slowly towards it to get it. I watch my step. You see i do not want to have a clumsy fall. I have never had one but the cynic in me has always felt i will. Anyway, I get my hands on it. I am all happy and i dream about the doors it will open. But, i really do not want to think about it.
Good people should like keys for how beautiful they are and not the doors they open.
I am in conscious love with the red. I am not looking at the flaws, which to my besotted eyes, arent many. I keep it on my desk all day. I know i lose interest easily and take pains that it wouldnt happen this time. Everything will be great and i would be deserving of the key. Its there everyday morning. I think i should find its door now. I wait for the morning next day. its already late in the night. But its always been late in the night. It has to be done NOW. I get up hurriedly in my boxers. I havent washed myself. I move towards my desk. i jiggle the litter on it around. To find it. It is there alright. It has got a scratch. I try to rub it off. Not working. I am supposed to love it unconditionally. Ok with it.
I lift it. It is not the same one. I find a filmy letter beside it. The key is gone with its owner. Turns out he was the rude guy next door. Keys can make such mistakes. They open doors to undeserving clowns. I think all keys do. But the strange inevitable part is it is my mistake. People pity my door-less-ness. I miss the key though.
