There had been two keys on the hook.
William used to dislike that. Then he began to like the sound of the other one in the lock.
He learned which step she paused on when her hands were full. He learned that she would leave a book open face down even after he offered her a scrap of leather for a marker.
Once he came home with enough food for two without counting the coins again afterwards.
He remembered that more clearly than he wanted to.
Now the hook held one key.
The room had not changed as much as he had expected. A chair was turned towards the window. There was a pale mark where something had stood on the shelf.
He set down his bag.
There were things he could have asked. There had been answers already, some of them true. He had spent too long trying to decide which ones mattered.
On the table lay the piece of leather.
William picked it up. One edge had curled from use.
He put it inside the book and closed the cover properly.
Outside, footsteps came up the stairs. They paused.
He looked towards the door before he could help it.
The footsteps continued to the next floor.
William stood still until the other door shut. Then he took his key from the hook and put it in his pocket.
He checked the window latch. Counted the money in his bag. Set aside enough for another room.
The book went in last.
