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THE FLIPSIDE OF LOSING MY KEYS part 1

bikes, incident, quirks

I left Genevieve’s on Sunday at 9 PM, backpack in one hand, bag with empty Pyrex dish in other, swore at Shorewood’s sparse yellow streetlights as I walked to my bike, plunked plastic bag with Pyrex into bike basket, hefted backpack onto back, turned on blinking head and tail lights, dug into upper left-hand pants pocket for my key chain, it wasn’t there. Dug into all six pockets. Not there. Felt from the outside, dug into the insides, still no keys. Looked on ground. Couldn’t really see. Must have fallen out of pocket somewhere. Returned to house, feeling foolish.

Genevieve and I went on a key search. Checked everywhere I’d sat or walked the past five hours, dining room, living room, bathroom, no keys. Outside with flashlight, peered into plastic bag with Pyrex, searched on ground. In the dim light every dead leaf resembled the Pick ‘n Save card on my key chain.

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