Treasury by Solomiya Andrusiv

His dwelling resembled a place
where lost things are sent when everyone forgot about them. Although in reality the old man who was living there just loved to give and receive gifts.
On all free surfaces from huge oak wardrobes to small coffee tables of all shapes and sizes lied piles of books, huge leather bindings mixed with thin boulevard fiction, piles of magazines and newspapers. There were also cups, coffee pots, strange red flowers and plants with large sharp leaves, a glass ball with a castle inside, if shaken well, snowfall would begin. An old violin, several life-beaten guitars, each of which lacked strings, records - black and red, in and without covers, solid and broken, lying in piles and hanging on the walls. Several soft armchairs with dark green velvet upholstery, two stools with missing legs, a bar stool and a small burgundy sofa with pillows near the window. On the walls - mirrors, paintings by famous artists and sketches by those we would never know about, fire evacuation schemes, moose and deer horns, tear-off calendars with yellowed pages, clocks, blurry photographs and postcards from different countries. There were also bells and whistles, castanets and flutes, flasks, earrings, horseshoes , playing cards, fortune-telling cards, buttons and buckles, boxes with surprises, candles in copper candlesticks, precious stones and stones, the value of which knew only he, seasonings, seeds and roots of plants, shabby cards with marked sunken treasures, figures of wood, gold and ivory, crumbling pieces of meteorites, bird feathers, medallions and torn beads, bracelets, shells from Greek nuts, sunglasses, jars, test tubes, old cameos , gramophones and tape recorders, insects in amber and several toys. And almost each of these things was not only what it seemed to be. In empty gourd pumpkins he kept dreams, memories - in music boxes and perfume bottles.
Those who’ve come to the old man need no spices, no books and no precious stones. They all need only one thing which he really didn't want to part with. This is so in his style to hide something very important in plain sight. The old man even had a game in which he let guests find what they'd been looking for. The funniest thing in this game was that the old man didn’t even remember where this little thing was, just in case. After all, the game had to be fair. And they all needed a small bronze key which was lying somewhere among the scattered nuts, chains and screwdrivers. The key was also not only what it seemed to be. This key could open any door to its owner whether it was a treasury or someone's heart. That's why the old man hoped that the key would let only the right person find itself.