I walked up those mold-ridden steps and reached the landing. Stuff was strewn everywhere. I walked to the corner where a flea-bitten curtain covered most of a cracked window. I pulled away the curtain and enough light for me to see half of the room came in. I was in my grandmother's house. It had been seven months since “the incident,” and I was finally exploring the rest of my grandmother's house. There was a small box in the corner. It was fairly new, unlike most of the junk piled up there. I looked outside the window, and a bird flew to the once-bright yellow bird feeder- my grandma’s bird feeder. I felt like I had a whole rain storm in my eyes. I couldn't bear to come back. Just as I was leaving, I saw writing on the small box. It was blue and loopy. I could tell it was my grandmother's writing. It took a moment to remember that it was the same ink from my grandmother's new pen she still had in her pocket when “the incident” had happened. I suddenly felt tense. With my fingers trembling, I pried open the lid. Inside was a rusty black key and a note. The note read, “You always were smart, find my deepest treasure...” It was then I knew that my adventure was just beginning….