And now, here is the latest installment of paragraph of the week!
John glanced at the key digging into his palm. Everything else had been consumed by the flames. Almost nothing of their home, their lives, was left. The only thing that remained was the skeleton key she always wore around her neck. The coroner, a plump, bearded man with a soft voice and heavy waddle, gave the key and his deepest condolences. The words had done him about as much good as the plates of food being sent his way, but the key quickly become a substitute for her; where he went, the key would accompany him, and in a way, he felt maybe she would be there too.