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A cowardly Pandora. |
| Yesterday’s yesterday, I found a box buried in the park under a rose bush. It was old, or seemed so at least, with a dancing elephant carved into the soft light wood blackened with dirt. I was digging for buried treasure. Seems I do that a lot these days, search for things I know I won’t find. But maybe I did find it, somehow, buried treasure at the heart of an enchanted forest where young couples walked hand in hand a midst the screaming children and lonely walkers. That thrice-damned box. It’s sitting on my bedside table now. I don’t know what to do with it. If I open it, who knows what I might find? Closed, it could be anything. A secret journal. A dead man’s skull. A million dollars, my ticket out of here. But even I know elephants can’t really dance and they always did say I was a coward. |