You stare at it: A brass key, rusty and old. It's much heavier than you'd expect.

When your friend Terry died, he had willed it to you. It was the only property he owned, an heirloom. That's what the attorney had said.

The key came with a letter from Terry. He had written it during his last months in the hospital in New Mexico. Before he died, one month ago.

Scratched in ornate script along the base: the initials "HPL."


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