The Key on the Path

A small brass key shines on a park path — a winding key from some toy. Nobody saw Alice pick it up. And on a bench nearby a boy is crying over a car that will not go.

A small brass key shines on the park path — pretty, with a round loop. Alice picks it up: a winding key from some toy, and nobody saw. The key goes into a pocket, and the pocket feels heavier at once: in there it does not shine at all, and somehow it gets in the way. And on a bench a boy is crying: a clockwork car stands beside him, and it will not go anywhere without its key. Alice walks past — it would be easy to walk on, nobody would ever know. But a few steps later walking on does not work. Alice goes back, takes the key out and holds it out on an open palm: "Is this yours?" The boy stops crying, fits the key in, winds it all the way — and the car drives off along the path by itself. Then he brings it back, winds it and hands it over: "Here, you set it off." The boy's name is Nikita, and he lives in the next building along.