DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction, however at current it reflects my state in the world of publishing. Any guesses?
I come home, walk up my steps, and fish through my keychain cluttered with Volkswagen emblems and trinkets from St. Petersburg. Dónde está my house keys? Ah, here they are. Gold and greasy. Ew.
I jam it into the lock, and twist it. Maybe my roommate left some borscht out for me before he went on his night shift…? Probably not. But before I can be disappointed (duh, he never leaves out the leftovers from his nightly battlefield called dinner), I remember that we had our locks changed recently. Not only will the door not budge, but the key won’t turn. I am left with sore fingers (It’s cold out today, which doesn’t help!) and a greasy, golden, useless key.
…Oh wait, it may not be that useless! There’s another door!
Dragging my boots down the stairs again, I nod to a lady watering a flowerpot nearby, muttering a kindly “Здравствуйте.” She eyes me coldly and turns her shoulder. Eesh, what am I doing in this country? I try to speak their language, but they pretend they don’t understand.
The side door won’t budge either. I fiddle with my Samsung phone, quickly sending Sergey a text message asking desperately where he left the new keys. While I wait for a response, I look around at the other people sitting in their warm homes, enjoying some television or reading a good book. Some of them are fraternizing with friends, and family. I wish I had some company tonight…if I ever got into my house.
Beep beep! I slide open my phone.
UNDER THE WELCOME MAT, writes Sergey. How original!
The welcome mat is heavy, but the key is, sure enough, hiding underneath. It’s not as used as my greasy golden key. In fact, it’s brand new. Somebody had even taken the time to monogram it with an S. I think it stands for Seph. It could also stand for Sergey, which puts my ego in check…
Satisfied, I slide the new key into the lock…