My neighbor has a key to my house. He got it four days after mentioning he could take in packages. He said, "Just give me a key." I said I would prepare something. He said, "Prepare what?" I had intended to present it formally. In my country a key changes hands with both parties standing, some words are said, and the recipient acknowledges the weight of it. I made him stand in his driveway while I did a small version of this. He was holding a hose. He did not put down the hose. He said, "Okay, thanks man," and put my key in his pocket like a receipt. Total time from meeting him: five weeks. In my country I have known men for twenty years who have never seen my kitchen. I asked how many keys he has. He opened a drawer. Six. Six houses. Six families. Nobody appointed him. He was simply the first one to retire, and retirement here apparently comes with an office. He waters plants. He checks on things in storms. He knows which houses have alarms and has never mentioned this to anyone. I asked what he does if someone is away and something breaks. He said, "I call their guy." He has our guys' numbers. He maintains a directory of other men's contractors so he can dispatch them into empty houses. He could destroy six families before lunch. He has instead spent eleven years receiving packages. I asked if anyone had ever betrayed this. He said, "Not here." Not here. Which means he knows of somewhere. He did not elaborate. I did not ask. Then he said, "You'll do it someday." I asked what he meant. "When you're the one who's home." He is not running a service. He holds a position. The position is transferable and he has already identified me as a future holder. I have not told him I was moved. He would find that upsetting. Raise your hand if there is a neighbor's key in your drawer right now.