My coat pocket hung heavy against my hip where my old Manhattan townhouse key ring sat.

Four brass keys hung from the heavy ring: the front double doors, the library, the wine cellar and the street gate.

I stopped beside a green iron city recycling bin set into the concrete path.

The heavy brass fob stamped with the Aldridge Luxe crest clinked against the iron frame from inside my pocket.

I took out the key ring and held it over the open slot of the bin.

A woman pushing a stroller passed behind me on the path, her footsteps soft on the damp gravel.