The room is slightly chilly from a breeze coming in through the window, which is open only a crack. I have been sleeping on a slightly lumpy couch, using a sheet with little roses on it and a blanket with a giant picture of Grover from Sesame Street. The air is slightly stale, but that's probably because the humidifier in the room hasn't been cleaned in a while. The walls have old black-and-white photos of people I don't recognize, mostly in plastic frames. A mobile with pieces of colored glass hangs from the ceiling, swaying slightly in the draft.
The trees are very tall, like ponderosas. It is a dry country, so the trees are widely spaced, with little underbrush. There is a blanked of pine needles underfoot, and the air smells of creosote and sage. The day is overcast, so a clean gray light filters through the branches overhead.
The path has been travelled heavily in the past--you can tell by the ruts it has carved in the soil. However, it is overgrown with weeds and grasses, so it hasn't been used much lately. Some logs and rocks have fallen into the path, but it is mostly easy to follow as it winds gently through the trees.
A small run-off fed stream lies ahead, with a large snow bank on the other side. The water is icy cold and clear, running and bubbling over the rocks. It has cut a V-shaped wash through the landscape, meandering down the fall line. The rocks clearly visible in the bottom of the stream are green and slippery with algae.
A sports bottle from "Mountain Cyclery" is lying on the bank. Guess the path isn't so unused, after all. It is bright orange, with blue lightning-shaped streaks running through it. The sun has faded the colors on one side, so it's probably been sitting here a while.
The key is bright green metal, like the re-made ones you get in Wal-Mart. It looks like a car key, with teeth on both sides. Probably to some small foreign car, where the trunk key and the ignition key are the same.