There is a small town at the base of a hill.

It is a lively and overpopulated town, filled with vibrant colours, and lively with active citizens. Shops are overcrowded with customers and houses are overcrowded with guests. No one is ever lonely in the town, nor is anyone ever unhappy. All the buildings are crowded together in one center, which makes the town quaintly small. The buildings are made of wood with the most modern of architecture. Everything is new and polished; nothing is outdated.

There is a small house on the hill.

It is made of stones dug up from the earth. There is no roof; for it was blown away a long time ago by a storm that passed a dozen years after it was built. Windows that once held glass now only hold cobwebs and the occasional twigs from a bird's nest. The stones that make up its walls are faultless. They flash when the sun shines upon them, and they glint when the rain runs down them. There is a wooden door to the house. It is shut; however, in the past, it had been opened and closed many times. Now it remains permenantly locked: fastened with a dead bolt, to which the key has been lost.

Inside the house, the furniture is dusty. Dirty chairs that have been assembled around a dirt-covered table sit in the middle of the room. In the corner, there is a bed. It was overused, and consequently, it is broken, and sinks in the middle to sag onto the wooden floor. In another corner, there is a stove. At one point, it cooked many meals for the occupants of the little house. It was used frequently, and brought pleasure and fulfillment to the lives of many. However, upon closer inspection, one can see that it is broken as well. Now wrecked, the stove has no purpose either.

In the wall opposite of the bolted door, there is a hole. Inside the hole, there is a nest of five mice. They scurry around the small house everyday, searching for scraps of food to survive on. Occasionally there are crumbs of food from the birds, which are carelessly dropped on the floor while being fed to their young. There is never a crumb wasted, as each one will be found and eaten quickly by a mouse.

One such mouse scampers quickly out of its hole in the wall. It darts quickly across the room to squeeze itself between a crack in the door and scurries across the green grass surrounding the outside of the little house. Suddenly, it stops. Something is glimmering in the grass. It is a metal object that is rusty and covered in dirt; however, it still manages to gleam mischievously in the light. The mouse approaches the object curiously, then upon seeing it, scuttles away, its only purpose to find something to eat.

For what purpose would a key be needed by a mouse?