Pinterest Story Prompt: She bought the shirt for a dollar at the thrift store and found the key in the pocket a week later. – deepwaterwritingprompts.tumblr.com
Melly loved her monthly thrift store treasure hunts. She usually went in with a particular theme or purpose, but was just as usually diverted down fascinating rabbit holes of unexpected finds and inspiration.
Her focus was mostly on metal bits and bobs, small accessories and other odds and ends that she could use in the sculptures she created and sold on her Etsy store. This time though, she needed some work clothes, sturdy shirts and pants that could stand being covered in sawdust, paint and glue. The $1 corner of the clothing section was made to order, she picked up two long-sleeved tees, a pair of men’s overalls that no one in their right mind would wear in public thanks to their interestingly-placed holes, and a comfy, roomy men’s plaid shirt.
She got home, washed all four, then tidied them into the cupboard in her ‘studio’ (more commonly known as the back shed). The following weekend, with an entire Saturday clear (bliss!) she headed down there and pulled the shirt out to cover herself while painting. The breast pocket thudded against her with an unexpected weight, a weight that most definitely wasn’t there when she’d pulled the shirt out of the shopping bag, the washing machine, or off the line.
From the outside, it felt like a key and when she fished it out, that’s what it was, a nondescript sort of key, with a stamp for the city railway station on one side, and a number on the other. There were lockers for rent at the station, could this be for one of them? And where had it come from?
All thoughts of painting gone, Melly headed for the street and the bus that would take her into town.
Making her way to the bank of lockers at the Central Station, and counting through the numbers on the doors, she came to the one matching her key, tucked in a back corner.
She carefully fitted key to lock, holding her breath as it turned, and the door opened. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but it surely wasn’t a guitar, a couple of CDs (did she even own a CD player any more?), a photo album and a letter, addressed to her.
She carefully propped the guitar back inside the locker and leaned against the wall as she opened the letter…
No idea where this one’s heading, what do you think?