Quieter.

Mine.

The old ring of warehouse keys sits in a desk drawer.

None work anymore.

I keep them because they remind me of something.

For years, I thought having the keys meant I controlled what mattered.

The house key.

The warehouse key.

The office key.

The company key.

Then I learned ownership and control are not the same as dignity.

Dignity came when I was finally willing to close a door.

Even on someone I loved.

And leave it closed until they learned how to knock.