Pocket Tale

"If you can guess what I have in my pocket, you can have it." He said, his eyes narrowing in a challenge that tried too hard to be mysterious, and failed miserably.  

"I'm lost." I answered, frowning with my eyes downcast. "I haven't got time for guessing games." 

But my new friend wouldn't be put off. He gave a cackling laugh that ended in a violent wheeze. 

"Life is a guessing game, and being lost is the biggest leap of all. Sooner or later you'll have to guess where to go and what your destination will get you." He said emphatically, and for the first time I stopped fumbling with my map and looked up at him. His eyes were blue like mine and just as deep. The blueness in his called out to the blueness within me, and somehow I felt a friendship spring up inside, in spite of my reluctance. We were the same, he and I. 

"Alright," I said, laying aside my useless map and all my reservations. "You say you'll give it to me if I guess?" 

"If you guess right." He corrected with a rather aloof grin. The grin was missing a few teeth, but the fact didn't dim his smile or his apparent eagerness to begin the game. 

"What makes you think I'd want it, whatever it is?" I asked. 

"You will." He assured me, beaming brightly. 

"Something a traveler would want, then." I surmised. He looked impressed. 

"Very good." 

I met his grin and raised him several teeth. Mine were whiter, because younger teeth have less wear and wisdom alike. A train whistled by outside, and I wondered vaguely where it was headed. 

Aloud I said, "It can't be a map, because I've already got one of those." 

He nodded, apparently pleased that I had eliminated an option. 

"And it can't be a compass, because I've got one of those on my map." I added. 

"Good, good." He said, delighted. 

What else does a traveler want? I thought privately, wondering. 

A suitcase. Absurd. Who could fit one of those in their pocket? What about a ticket? Money? A glorious destination?

I didn’t want any of those things. I wanted to go home.

Home. Of course. All travelers eventually long for home.

Grinning, I realized I knew.

"You've got a key in your pocket," I said. He looked shocked, his eyes popping like tulips breaking open under a sunny sky. 

He extracted the key from his pocket and handed it over, smiling once more. The smile seemed handsomer now, and full of allure. He was handing me a home. 

"Where is the lock that it opens?” I asked, admiring the rather dull metal with its intricate curls and twists, winding into teeth at the tip.

He laughed, that same wheezing chuckle. "Now that's a whole different guessing game, isn't it?"