unlockable locks

There is a woman that works for some people in my neighborhood. I guess she is their live-in maid, but she also cleans other houses in the area. The only reason I know this is because I see her regularly walking home from a job on my street. If I’m going the same way as her, I’ll usually give her a lift. Sometimes she just likes to walk though. It “keeps her young” I guess.

Today was different. But not in an exciting way. Sorry.

On the way home from having lunch downtown, I saw her walking by these newly constructed boat docks down the street from my house. I slowed my car, waved, and noticed her look of frustration. This time, she didn’t need a ride she just needed me to see because she could not. On a torn magazine page, she had written 4 numbers: the code to the boat stall gate. I dialed the numbers on the lock and nothing happened. I tried again, and reversed some numbers. Despite the blatant fact that I could not help her, I felt like I had completely failed.

I can’t seem to help anyone lately.


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