engraved in silver and a magnetic strip.
“What is this?” I asked.
“It’s a key,” she said simply.
“To what?”
She leaned forward, her steel-gray eyes locking onto mine. “This is not for buying clothes. Not for vacations. Not for making life easy. Don’t use it when you’re angry — anger is cheap, and you’ll waste it.” She paused. “Use it when you need to stand continue reading …
