She juggles her purse and groceries, inserting the dingy key into the door of the home she shares with her lover. The twisting key ring flashes with light from a shiny, new key.
“You don’t have to feel trapped now,” the friendly voice had said when handing it to her.
Struggling through the door, she enters the home that doesn’t seem like hers; she greets the, “Hmmph”, with a slight nod to the lover who doesn’t feel like hers, enters the kitchen to put away food that she doesn’t eat.
Her keys clatter, falling to the floor. New gold beckons.