My mind became a brief history of empty boxes.
The big cardboard ones I'd find as a kind and turn into a fort. Or a house, drawing in windows on the sides. I would cut out the windows and ruin it.
Boxes that sweaters would come in. Boxes from department stores that I would keep in the bottom of my closet until they could be filled with some kind of collection.
Coffins.
The Cracker Jack box when I was all done, when the prize had been revealed to be something plastic, something worthless.
An empty sandbox, looking like it was waiting for sand.
A mailbox always looks like it's full of envelopes. But you never know for sure. Most of the time when you open it, it sounds hollow.
What did Pandora do with her box after she'd unleashed despair into the world? Did she keep it on her mantel, as a reminder of what she's done?
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