The seat had been moulded to the contours of another body and it felt strange underneath him. The key was in the ignition with a metal loop hanging from it from which depended in turn three other keys to doors he would never go through.

–from “The Quarry” by Damon Galgut.

I really like the image of keys that open doors that he will never go through; keys that will never again be used. Do keys with no doors (a.k.a. “purpose”) cease to be “keys” and become something else?