The top stuck halfway, so I lifted it with both hands and held it with my knee.

Inside, his pens were lined up.

His checkbook.

A tin of paper clips.

A small brass hook screwed into the left side of the cubby.

The hook was empty.

That hook had held the spare emergency key since we bought the house.

It was a plain brass key, heavier than the one on my ring, with a red rubber cap so it wouldn’t scratch the wood.