Keyhole

As I was paying for my purchases at Food Lion tonight, the cashier, a young black woman with a clean-shaven head, big red-framed glasses, and a delightful smile, glanced down and spotted the keyhole tattoo on my ankle.

"What's the significance of the keyhole?" she asked.

I shrugged and stammered. I've struggled with trying to explain it before. I said something along the lines of, "It's a long story. It has a special significance for me, with a certain loved one."

"Ah," she nodded knowingly, slipping the bag with my bread and tortilla chips into the cart.

As I thanked her and was about to walk away, she added, "Does someone else have the key?"

She meant a tattoo, perhaps on their ankle. That would be cute. Especially for a couple to do. She couldn't have meant the other meaning, my meaning, the real answer to her questions.

"Yes," I said, matching her smile. "Yes they do."