The Box
When I Arrived back from market and entered my felt I was greeted by a blinding flash of sun light, and then it was just sitting there. So strange. So ambiguous. Had it been a last-minute thought as I left; to pick it up and place it there? It stared back at me from its perch atop the counter. Unsettling in a sense as I honestly could not recall were or even when it had arrived. Placing my markets bounty on the table I carefully inspected the thing from afar. Its corners and edges seemed sharpened in the light, brown intentional folds meeting and diverging to forum a box. A simple square box, about 12” by 11”. But why did I feel such fear, such dread? Why couldn’t I remember putting it there. Or for that matter when? my mind drifted away from the circumstances of the box, and on to what it might hold