If you have seen the last episode of Friends, you maybe hardly forget the take that six of them left the keys of the house and walked away. I am so impressive of it. In my real life, the scenario exactly happened but I am not willing to hand in the keys. In another word, I keep the key in secret.

The key is not merely a key but a symbol of the story between us. It’s so selfish for me to keep the key without telling you. This is an magic key to me. Once I open the door by means of the key and I can find the path toward the secret garden that had belonged to us. All the memories inclusive of sorrow, happiness, and laughter can be found in the garden. But you lose the key of your own. I have no choice to give the key back to you for the sake of house owner’s request.

Nowadays, the key is no longer with me all the time. The door of the garden is locked from now on. And I am unable to unlock it. Perhaps the situation stands for the end of our story. The garden is sinking into the deep sea and the lost atlantis of mine is unknown to people except me.