I once had it.
It was in my hand.
The moment I went to close my tattered fingers around it, to keep it in my grasp, they began to oxidize.
Not only was it as if the caretaker had forgotten to properly oil the cogs of the clock in the tower in the center of the town, he had also forgotten where he had hid the skeletal key.
The fingers began to crumble, what was once hovering within nanoseconds of my grasp had slipped eons away.
I once had it.
I let it go.

Go.

Go.