Our relationship was terrible, and it went on for years. You were always boring. You were never on time. You accused me of cheating on you constantly. You routinely screamed at me during sex, and this caused a continuation of my PTSD that actually made it worse.
When we finally broke up, I gathered your stray belongings and handed them off to a mutual friend to coordinate their return. Then I waited for you to do the same. As it turned out, I would end up waiting a mighty long time.
It’s been five years, and, in addition to keeping my favorite book and my favorite pillow, you kept the key to my condo.
This might’ve been just a thoughtless mistake. Or maybe it was a deliberately menacing demonstration of your enduring authority and domination. Whatever the case, the key is not yours to keep. It’s time to give it back.
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