Where did you get that ring

slid into my palm.

A brass key.

It was old, heavy, and darker than gold. Around its neck was a tiny paper tag, yellowed with age and tied with string. On it, in Henry’s handwriting, were three words:

For Evelyn only.

For a moment, the bus stop disappeared.

I heard Henry’s voice again. Low, warm, tired.

“If anything happens to me, Evie, don’t let the kids continue reading …