Uber Keys.

I have a bad habit. One that involves grabbing whatever keys are the closest as I go to the shop, take the rubbish out or go for a walk. I figure that if my keys are still in the apartment, it doesn’t matter. A key is a key. My partner can just use my key. No drama, right?

Not so. Whilst my watertight logic is solid initially, problems occur in the morning as I grab my keys on the way out. Whilst that might not seem problematic, I do this whilst still being in custody of my partner's keys from the night before. 

I’m a key thief. A bastard causing inconvenience. A fool with a habit of hoarding, hoarding keys.

But I have a friend. And my friend is omnipresent and always willing to help. My friend has many names. My friend roams the streets 24/7. I call him Uber. Uber Keys. He’s the brother of Uber Eats. Son of Uber. Cousin of Google. I’ve introduced him to my partner but she doesn’t like him much. Said she didn’t want to meet him again. Said I should stop hanging out with him. That he’s keeping me from being responsible. I think she’s harsh. Uber Keys deserves better than that.