The Keymaker stared down at the silver locket he held in his hand. Tonight, he was finally going to open it.

He remembered the Stranger who had given him the locket years ago. A bent and withered old man, the Stranger had lost the key to his Book of Memories and needed a replacement made. The Keymaker was happy to oblige, and in return, the Stranger gifted the Keymaker with the shiny locket, along with important instructions:

"When the silver mines are dry and there are no keys left to make,
Use your final lump of silver to create one for your sake.
Take the precious key and use it to unlock this silver case,
And you will behold the beauty of your one true lover's face."

The Keymaker smiled as he held the locket in one hand and his last lump of silver in the other. He had closed up shop early tonight, having made and sold every last key. The time had come to make the final key that would open the locket and reveal his true love.

There was a knock at the door. It was a Boy dressed in tattered rags. He clutched a wooden chest in his arms.

"Please, sir, I need to lock my toys away in this chest so the monsters won't take them. Will you make me a key?"

The Keymaker hesitated. He had waited many long and lonely years to find out who his true love was. Should he waste his last lump of silver on a child's toys?

Then the words of his dear Mother echoed in his head: "Always show kindness to the weak, the wanderer, the widow, and the waif."

The Keymaker knew what he had to do. Without a second thought, he rushed to his equipment. He melted and poured and waited, and before long, he had a shiny key ready. He handed it, still warm, to the delighted Boy, who ran off with a smile stretched across his dirty cheeks.

And so the locket was put away unopened—perhaps forever—the Keymaker's love still a secret.