I passed through the round door again. It creaked, but I was prepared; a squirt of WD-40, and all was well.
I saw that a .300 WinMag shell casing had rolled into a corner. I picked it up and set it on the hall table, in case the owner showed up.
Some accumulated junk mail to take care of... horse show brochures, Marine recruitment materials, and what’s this? Be a surrogate mother?? Fie. Into the recycling bin.
I lit a candle for Professor Tolkien’s 128th birthday. A few moments in thought over the pleasures of days past, and I went back out the door, dropping the key in its accustomed plant pot.
Remember. Rejoin, even.
IN MEMORIAM
G’NAD