The key ring

What this key for? she asked. She held it in her hand at the end of her outstretched arm. I don’t know, he said. C’mon, reallly, what’s it for? I honestly don’t know. It’s been there for as long as I can remember. So you have a key on your key chain and you don’t know what it’s for? No idea. I see she said, and dropped the keychain in the wood bowl on the glass shelves by the front door. How could you you have a key and not knows what it’s for? I don’t know. Maybe it just got carried over? Carried over from what? When we first moved in we had so many doors, you remember? Maybe it was from one of those? But how can you not know? You should know this. It worries me. This worries you? Yes, it worries me. A key on my key chain worries you? Why? Cause if you don’t know this, if you aren’t paying enough attention I start to wonder else what aren’t the you paying attention to and I get concerned. Because i don’t know what one key is for? When you don’t know, then I feel like I have to know and I manage everything I this house already. I can’t manage your key ring also. Until two minutes ago, you didn’t even know it was there! That’s not the the point, is it? I don’t fucking know. Is it? The point? I have no idea where we are right now.