Slow rain tapped against the window through most of the night. Milo woke to a sound above him.

A soft shift.

The attic hatch stood open slightly.

Milo climbed carefully into the dark. Dust rested thick along the beams, and old furniture leaned where it had been left years before.

Near the wall sat a wooden box small enough to carry in both paws. Milo touched the bronze key to the lock, but nothing happened.

He turned the key once. The box stayed closed.

Milo shifted his paws and pressed again.

Something moved inside.

Click.

The lid opened slightly.

Inside rested a folded scrap of paper.

Milo closed the box gently and carried both things downstairs before morning.

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