"It must be in the kitchen drawer." Benjamin muttered to no one in particular. He was by himself after all. He was always misplacing things and now, already late for work, he couldn't find the roll of stamps so he could mail the payment to the power company. If the check didn't go out today he'd probably get one more notice but he was sick of those pink letters. His search took him into a familiar world full of remnants of the past he would hold onto for no particular reason. And there were the old familiar friends like the scissors he would use to cut out the coupons from the Sunday ads. "Show thyself!" he yelled at the drawer but that didn't seem to help him in any way at all. That's when he saw it. In the back of the drawer was a lone key made of bronze and he didn't recognize it. "There's a door waiting for you but that's for another day." He laid the key on the counter and pressed on. Then, out of the corner of his eye he saw the 'forever' stamps he purchased a month ago. "Forever stamps. Better than money." Sometimes he really cracked himself up but he was already late and Mr. Feigler was always watching the clock when it came to his employees. "I'll see you when I get home." he yelled through the door. "Why do I do that? Maybe I need a dog or a cat or something." His neighbor looked at him and shook his head as Benjamin got into his car. Mr. Johnson was always watching the neighborhood and would make little mental notes about who was wearing what and how fast someone would pull into their drives. "He's an odd little man." Benjamin complained to the empty car. But that wasn't important. He needed to get to work. After another long day and several verbal warnings by Mr. Feigler, Benjamin pulled back into his drive and went in to his house. "Did you miss me?" he asked the empty residence. "Me too." The silence was still unfamiliar to him. His mother had left several weeks ago and he was still not used to the vacancy. He turned the lights on and proceeded to pull a beer out of the refrigerator. Out of the corner of his eye, on the counter, he saw the key. He had almost forgotten about it. He could remember the constant nagging by his mother on leaving things laying around and never remembering where he had left them. He missed her but not the constant nagging. "One of these days you're gonna forget something really important and you're really gonna be in trouble. It's just gonna kill me watching you do this all the time." His mother never held back on her tirades. Even at the age of 32 she felt the need to constantly harass him about his socks next to the sofa or his shoes left unorganized by the back door. But he still loved her even with her constant nagging. "I bet she would be hounding me now about which door this key goes to." he said to his beer. There was something about the key that seemed so important but he just couldn't remember. "It must go to the house." he thought to himself. But it didn't look like any of the keys on his key ring. Now it was starting to bug him. What door or cabinet did this go to? His mind made a mental search of all the possibilities. He could almost taste the answer forming on the tip of his tongue. "It's not a bedroom key 'cause they don't take keys. And it couldn't be for the bathroom..." The pressure was mounting in his head as he fathomed the possibilities. "There's the shed out back but..." Suddenly, like a truck barreling into him, the memories came flooding back. His mother had been riding him hard about the new job he was starting. "Remember to smile and don't forget which office is yours." she had told him. Just the constant needling and prodding was what tore him up inside. She was always reminding him about his flaws. Yes, he would forget things and he had dealt with it his whole life. He could still remember how unexpected and original his plan came to him that morning. A simple request for her to investigate was the only prodding he had needed to lead her outside. She was always snooping where she didn't belong. Any semblance of disorder and she was there like a blood hound to figure it out. It had happened so quickly and without reserve. And now, weeks later, the memory of shock on her face bubbled up from deep inside. She had screamed for a bit but then she had gone silent. It was more out of disbelief than anything. Her son, her devoted and loving son, had tricked her and she would just have to stay in the shed for a little bit until he came to his senses. But now, as held the key, he remembered how he returned with the knife and had slit her throat. The neighbor, Mr. Johnson, had been at a doctor's appointment that morning and so no one had witnessed any of it. And then, as simply as it had begun, he shut the door and locked it. That morning he put the key in the drawer and had forgotten it. In some ways his mother was right. He was gonna forget something really important one day. But for now he would wait until the darkness to finish what he had started all those weeks ago. She was right. His forgettin' was gonna kill her someday. My name is Rueuhy and I approve this blog.
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