Gary rocked back on his heels, groaning. After searching for the car keys for a half hour, he was ready to give up. Might have, too, but he had tickets for the footy game. He glanced around the open living space, eyes scanning clean surfaces, hoping to catch a glint of silver. No luck.

“Charlie,” he said, hauling himself up off the floor. 

Cheeks flushed from exertion, his seven-year-old son rushed inside, blond hair sticking up at odd angles, a smudge of dirt on his forehead. “Yeah, Dad?”

“Where’s the keys, mate?”

Charlie’s face scrunched up, a finger tapping his chin. 

“You opened the door last night, and then where’d you put them?” Gary forced himself to remain calm while secretly regretting not having Charlie chase the roos off yesterday. Then they wouldn’t be running late today. 

“I put them somewhere safe.”

Charlie swatted at a buzzing fly and hopped on one foot. Gary took in slow, deliberate breaths and checked the basket where they should have been. Instead, there was a spare Allen key, loose change, and lint. 

“Come on, mate, Gran’s waiting for us, and we don’t want to miss the first bounce.”

Charlie nibbled his lower lip and waved his gold and brown flag.

“Right-o. Walk me through it.” Gary pointed at the front door. “You unlocked the house, walked inside, and?”

“Oh!” Charlie scrambled under the table, pried back a dingy sock secured to a chair with rubber bands, and held the keys aloft. “Found them!” 

Word: ke | Action: searching