Her lock was relatively unused. It was shiny with a tiny central hole. The intricate detail was so like others, yet very personal. There was no other lock like it despite a vast amount of people owning one that was nearly the same. She took great pride in her lock. She kept her lock locked, but not for lack of trying. She wanted so desperately to open it, to let it go, to feel the rush as it slowly released the tension that was holding it closed. She needed to remember what was inside, but that was impossible without a key.

Her problem was, she fucking loved keys. She liked big keys, small keys, round keys, square keys, old keys, new keys. In fact, she just wanted all of them. She obsessed for days, thought about a new key that she had had her eye on, and then once she had it, she’d be disappointed at how difficult it was to fit each one was inside her lock. Some weren’t the right size, some didn’t feel right, some were just simply a no, even though she had thought they were a yes. She wished they fit.

When she bought a key, she would hold it, touch it, feel its weight in her hand and play with it. It is fair to say that she had an obsession. She loved to stroke them, look at their detail and differentiate them from all the others she had held in her life. When she had looked at them properly, inspected them through and through, she would place them in a large wooden bowl that she had on her coffee table. It was so large it could probably fit a small human child in it. This bowl now held a collection of keys started several years ago, and it was almost full.

The key obsession had started when she turned 23 years old. She had learnt that in dutch, “a key” was “sleutel”. Pronounced “slow-tal”. Like “total” with a “sl” at the beginning. This word was very satisfying to her, and she saw the word daily on her walk home from work, as one key shop tried to be exotic a list the word “key” in as many languages as could fit on their low budget billboard. When she first entered this shop, she felt like she had entered some kind of chaotic wonderland. There was no structure whatsoever. Mountains of keys were piled in cheap containers, and racks on the walls had row upon row of differently designed keys. “Keys for every occasion” was written on the wall in bad typography. The thing she couldn’t work out, was why there were such a large amount of keys, and zero locks. She didn’t dare ask. She did however, make a point of stopping in this key shop every single day from that day forward. Purchasing one key every time she entered.

It wasn’t long before she realised that many of the keys fit nothing. Many of them were second hand keys. Many of the keys were totally useless. The lady who owned this key shop shared her obsession, and bought in keys to feed her fantasy. She had made her money long ago, and this key filled room was her passion. The lady kept a tally behind her till, where she wrote down the name of each of her customers and make a mark every time they bought a key. The girls name had been on this list for quite some time. Every time she bought a key, the lady scribbled the paper with a pen, satisfied, until finally one day, the girl was informed that she had now bought 100 keys. In an unusually deep voice, with a very strong Northern English accent, the lady said “you’ve reached 100 love. That means you get a gift from me.”

The lady shuffled into the back of the shop, and came back with a bright shiny new padlock. It was open, the metal attachment firm but loose from its grounding hole. “Its unlocked now” said the lady unnecessarily. “And I know the key is somewhere here in my shop.” She gestured around the metallic mystery of a room. “Although, I could have sold it to you already, could have sold it to someone else. Who knows!” She passed the girl the padlock. “I’d just use it and hope for the best, lock away something precious and trust yourself. I like to think everyone finds the correct key at some point in their life.” She shuffled back to her usual post and continued to touch and hold her keys.

The girl had used the padlock the next day. She was very optimistic about finding the correct key. She loved keys and how hard could it be? This was 2 years ago, and the girl had now entirely forgotten what she had locked away. She had continued to buy a key a day, but as her collection increased the search became harder. Every other aspect of her life was suffering due to this one metal band that could not be opened. Her bowl of keys became a kind of pandora’s box, a metallic mystery she strained herself to solve. She had stopped working out, she hadn’t had sex, she was underperforming at work and her friends barely saw her. She sat at home, madly staring at her keys. Touching them. Looking at them all and trying to figure out if one of them would fit her lock.

Weeks went by. She forgot to shower. She went through every single key she owned, searching for a clue that could help her find the answer. She had days where she didn’t eat and just sat blankly staring at her bowl. IT MUST BE IN HERE. She couldn’t fathom the thought that someone else had her key. That was ludicrous. Just as the girl toed the line of madness, she had a sudden memory. She had looked at every single key over and over again and none of them were correct, but out of nowhere one time when she hadn’t put her purchased key in the bowl popped into her head. She ransacked her wardrobe for what she needed. She put on her mother’s old jacket. There was a hole in the pocket, and sure enough, as she poked her finger through the hole into emptiness below, she touched the satisfying rigid end of a metal key. She felt around and coaxed the key out by stroking it up the inside seam and back into the pocket. She looked at it. Its metal teeth were jagged and uneven and its head was square. The brand was printed clearly just above its hole. She let out a bellow of excitement. Could this be the day?

She ran out of the door and toward her work. In the work changing rooms there was a locker. This locker was marked with her name. A locker that had been locked, unopened, for two years. She felt the excitement pump around her entire body as she help the lock in one hand, and the key in the other. If she opened this now, she would scream with joy. She wouldn’t even care. The chances were so slim, if this worked, nothing was impossible! She slid the key into the lock. She turned it gently. It felt like silk wrapping itself around her entire existence. She heard a click, and she felt the POP as the metal opened inside her hand. She wailed her battle cry of satisfaction and opened the locker.

Inside she found her boxing gloves. So that was where she had put them! A wave gratification swept over her, but this was followed quickly by a wave of sadness. Was this the end of keys for her? Would she stop collecting? Her entire purpose for two years had now been resolved. She picked up the boxing gloves and went to the gym. She realised that she now had a new mindset. She felt like every tension inside her had been unlocked. She decided that she would never stop collecting keys, but she would also never focus on one lock without a key ever again, as she realised firmly, there is no key without a lock.