Her lock, surrounded by barbed wire. Protected, like a barricade. She knew there was only one key. She knew. One key that could survive the dozens of soldiers surrounding it with rifles in a high ready position. One key that could withstand the shock of the barbed wire. And suddenly, there was a key in the lock cylinder. A perfect fit. Over time, the bullets on the key changed. The key fit into other lock cylinders— not just hers. The lock burst as the key no longer opened it. The soldiers came flooding in, but there was nothing left to protect. The shackle, the locking bar, the latches, all gone, with no return in sight.