the emergency key

I am hanging at the local when my lovely scarlet-haired neighbor pokes her head into the restaurant. Hailing from the Deep South, Lana has a tendency to sweep into rooms and descend on people rather than affecting the boring, slinking-in entrances that I always seem to do.  As usual, she’s sparkling.

Amid hello hugs and you-look-wonderfuls, I step back and take in her ensemble. “You look so cute,” I said, thinking: I have a blouse that’s similar to that.

“This is yours,” Lana said, noting my confusion. “I borrowed it from you.”

“Oh, ha,” I murmured, still puzzling: When did that transaction occur?

“You didn’t loan it to me,” she explained, checking out who was doing what in the tavern. “I used my key one day and went in and took it.”

Key, key, what key? The…You don’t mean…The emergency key?

“Lana, I gave you that key to use in case of a flood, or something,” I said, racking my brain for potential catastrophes. “A flood or a tornado or…something. An emergency.”

“It was an emergency,” she firmly explained. “I had a date and I didn’t have anything to wear.”

Emergency:  A sudden, unexpected catastrophe (sometimes involving peril) that demands urgent action.