a/n: Hi there, this is Souvenir. Kingdom Hearts is the property of Square and Disney, just so you know. And, also so you know, this is the first romantic comedy I've ever written. So hopefully you'll all enjoy it. (It will be updated in between my other KH stuff, not as a priority, unless it's a big hit and I get a ton of reviews or something...but not for a little bit, 'cause I've got exams this week and next.) Anyway! On to the story.

I looked at the sign.

I looked at my hand.

And then I looked at the sign again.

I sighed.

What can I say? It was one of those bad situations. You know--not those emergencies that wake you up at three in the morning; not your toaster exploding, or your cat going into convulsions, or your favorite TV show being cancelled before you find out the ending. (Don't you really, absolutely, hate that?)

Actually, it kind of is like having your toaster exploding. Only instead of it happening once, it happens all the time. Every day.

Yeah. One of those situations which are more like problems.

But I wouldn't call it a problem. Because calling it that suggests that within myself lies the fault. And it's not my fault. I'm not cramming eight pieces of toast into the little space where you're only supposed to put one, or two if you're adventurous, I guess.

Just one. One little piece of toast, nothing thick that might snag on the metal rack and start to burn. One piece of toast. Let's call it rye. Rye's good. I like it. It tastes better than white bread, if you just stop to give it a chance.

But that's getting off the subject.

The point is, I'm not doing anything to cause the situation. So it's not a problem, this thing that happens. Just one of those situations.

If you've ever been standing in the middle of the kitchen with your hands tucked behind your back when all of a sudden your toaster explodes at three in the morning…..

You'd buy a new one.

Wouldn't you? I really don't think I'm alone in this, though I suppose I could be wrong. Sure. You'd buy a new one. You've got to have your toast, right? (Okay, so let's say toast is somewhat important to you. Let's say that you heartily enjoy your breakfasts. But sadly, you have been gifted with a harsh allergy to cereal. You don't have that many other options, unless you like grapefruit or bacon, but wouldn't you want toast with that?)

But it's exploded. Okay. No big deal. Like I said, you buy a new one.

Well, suppose you buy a fancier toaster this time. You go to bed, you wake up, you're in the kitchen at three in the morning. (I guess I'd tell you to stop taking naps in the day, otherwise you'll never drop the habit. Of course, I've long since stopped, so if you find an alternative that works, let me know.)

You look at the toaster. Not lovingly, or anything like that.

It's just a toaster, after all. It's just a convenient every day appliance that enables you to do things a little easier, like eat a nutritious breakfast.

And then it explodes. Again.

Once, now, you could accept that as a freak accident and live out the rest of your days without thinking about it ever again, except to maybe tell your friends at parties because it's a funny little story.

But twice, twice is serious. Twice is a little perturbing.

But life goes on. You buy another toaster. The old one must have been faulty.

It explodes. You buy a new one, that one must have been broken too. Except this one explodes also.

Now then, don't be worried. It's not your fault. You're only a little miffed at the shoddy work that people turn out these days.

So you become one of those people--there've got to be others, I'm sure of it--who spend a lot of time buying toasters, since for some odd reason, all the ones you buy break.

Course, I imagine that eventually, you'd have found another way to make toast. It's not rational to go without it, after all. I bet you'd become a champion at making toast, over the years. Maybe even a genius. I daresay your toast would be the best around.

But I also bet, that due to your persistent nature, you'd keep on buying toasters. You'd try and trick yourself by thinking, I won't use it. I'll just keep it around.

It explodes anyway. They all do.

This doesn't matter. You don't stop, but you slow down. You'll only have the best toasters now, my friend, for you are a toaster connoisseur. You go years without buying a toaster, until finally, one day, one catches your eye. It looks sturdy to you. Special. You think, this will not explode!

It does. It always does.

Just so you know, (or if you're not particularly clever or whatever) I have no problems whatsoever with toasters. No, for me it's something else, but rather on the same scale. Although this doesn't explode. It just doesn't work for me…and if I keep trying, it snaps, in the most peculiar manner you've ever seen. I've had it since I could hold one, I suppose.

Replace the toasters with keys, and three in the a.m. to every time I try to open a lock, and you've caught my drift.

I looked at the sign.

I've only been in town for a few days, and let me tell you, it's a real backwards place around here. It's a town that is not-a-town, and if you've spent any length of time in such an area, you'll know what I mean.

The people are friendly amongst themselves, loud people, but they don't like who and what they don't know.

I guess people are like that everywhere, though.

And that's all I've really taken note of in my time spent, other than to not order the French hazelnut coffee at that tavern on the corner because it tastes like shit.

Surprised? I suppose the not-a-town atmosphere has been rubbing off on me, were I in the city I'd surely be dropping expletives left and right.

(But it really does.)

I'd been planning on moving on, since I hadn't been planning on coming altogether. I'd been on my way to follow another rumor, a rumor of a great artisan who lives in the mountains. Or the desert. So, I might have been a little lost.

I'd been hoping he could help me with my situation.

In fact, I'd been on my way out of town.

And then I saw this shop that was trying so hard to be inconspicuous, trying so hard, if you don't like that word, to hide, that it nearly blinded me. Crushed between the floral and the book store, and shorter than both of its neighbors, it sported a faded deep green banner with dirty cream stripes. The banner wasn't what had me in thrall, even though it reminded me of other shops I'd regarded with curiousity. No.

I looked at the sign.

I'd been looking at it for ten minutes.

I'd never seen anything like it, in terms of advertising. And to anyone else, it probably would have seemed like a ludicrous proclamation. I was of rather the same opinion, only to me it seemed brash. But it caught me. It lured me in.

Written across the glass in an elegant, if subtle, hand was the chipping white slogan:

We make keys that work.

a/n: Ah, the brilliance of the Allumeur brother's advertising...

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