I didn’t care.
I punched in the unit row number from the map posted outside and walked down the aisle of doors until I found it.
108.
The lock looked ordinary.
The key didn’t.
It was worn smooth in places, like my father had held it often. Like he’d carried it in his pocket and touched it when he needed to remind himself he still had a plan.
My hands shook so badly I missed the lock on the first try.
On the second try, it clicked.
I lifted the
