I Paid My Father $250 in Rent Every Month for Five Years. After His Funeral, His Best Friend Gave Me a Key and a Box.

I wanted to throw the key away.

Instead, I held it.

Its edges had been worn smooth by somebody’s fingers.

I wondered how often my father had touched it before deciding he still wasn’t ready to speak to me.

Frank stood to leave.

At the door, he turned around.