Out of the Box

Michael stepped into his front door after a long and tiring day at work and dropped his bag on the kitchen table.  Before he stepped away, his eye caught a glimpse of something he hadn’t seen in a very long time.

Michael, please, I can’t.

He hesitated and couldn’t seem to deliver the message to his hand to reach out to pick it up.

Dana, this isn’t something to debate about.  I’m sorry.

He just stared at it.  His eyes glazed over and his eyelids remained still.  He finally inhaled a gulp of air and sighed.  He extended his arm and picked up the fragile hair pin.  It was lighter than he remembered and the pearl beads on it glistened up at him, smiling.

Fine! You will be sorry! And take this! I never liked it anyway!

He recalled how it almost shattered that night.  She was so angry.  Goosebumps sprouted from his arms.  He could hear the ringing of her cry as she rushed out of the door with a slam.  If only he hadn’t cleaned out her side of the closet last night.

It must have dropped out of the box.


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