River Stones and the Shifting Deadbolt

River Stones and the Shifting Deadbolt

I was back in the house I grew up in, but it was also somehow the municipal library downtown. I was trying to find my car keys because I had to get to work, but my old high school art teacher was sitting behind the kitchen counter, quietly shuffling an oversized deck of cards. She told me I couldn't leave until I drew the 'right sequence' to unlock the front door. Every time I reached for the brass deadbolt, the lock cylinder kept shifting slightly out of reach, sliding along the wood grain like it was water. I pulled open three different desk drawers looking for my lanyard, but each drawer just held dusty velvet pouches filled with river stones marked with faint geometric lines. I wasn't scared, just deeply frustrated because the clock on the stove kept skipping backwards by twenty minutes, and my teacher just kept nodding toward the stones like their arrangement was supposed to make obvious sense to me.