The Key

As the night air blew, he walked silently into the dark alley. The key, hidden in his hand, felt fire hot- he dropped it several times. His heart beat fast, and his head drowned in thoughts.
The past 30 minutes have replayed on a loop, like a record needle stuck on a scratch. But the memories had no sound, were sped up by 1.5x, just fast enough to seem like a nightmare.

He had met her for coffee. He wore a new shirt, she wore dark sunglasses and a long coat, which covered most of her face. He found it odd to wear sunglasses at night at the time. Before he had finished his first sip of the caffeinated brew, she held his hand. It felt cold. When she removed it he saw a key in his hand. He slid it into his pocket, without a word. His heart skipped a beat at the thought of getting lucky with her, of new love being sparked.

She got up quickly, and knocked over her purse. Out fell a diamond ring. A wedding ring. Her wedding ring. She picked it up, and gave him a look that said it was unimportant. She walked away as he caught his breath.

His memory caught up with the present. Here he stood, between desire and infidelity. He closed his eyes for a bit longer than the standard blink, and opened them looking at the key in his hand. It was as if closing his eyes would make the key disappear. But the key remained, as real as ever.

If he entered, he would experience a passion that he had desired for so long. Yes, he would feel bad, but he would not regret it. He would leave in the morning, and await her husband's next business trip. It was everything he thought he wanted, everything he felt he should want.

He could see her apartment light on upstairs. She was waiting on him, and he was standing at her door. He was standing at the moral crossroads, out of breathe and out of guidance. He closed his eyes one more time and breathed in. It was the deepest breath of his life. Without thinking he opened his eyes, and watched his arm throw the key deep into the alley's abyss.
He panicked, and for a moment tried to search for the key, hoping to reclaim her touch, but it was no use.

He walked out of the alley, back into the streetlights. He looked up into her window with a yearning that burned, even while knowing it was the worse choice. He saw her standing, and he saw a shadow. A man's shadow. Her husband has come home early.

The streetlights seemed to always put situations into perspective for him, now regretting spending the time to search for the lost key. He continued on his way back home, to sleep soundly and without regret. He would awake in the morning, without regret or sorrow, and live his life.