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The Box

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I thought this box would come in handy one day.  Handy for what, I had no idea, but handy for something, one day.  Its impractical size is incredibly impractical for holding anything practical.  No latch makes for securing contents questionable, though closure is snug and smooth.  No strap, chain, or loop means that it must be held in a hand or contained within another receptacle.  The box had no purpose, but I had to have it, now, for the future, for something.

I half thought that if it were mine, I would give it purpose.  The other half was seduced by pulling off a major heist.  My heart raced with the idea of sliding the smooth silver metal into my jeans pocket in plain view of the very person who could put me away.  All I needed were guts and a plan.  Sweat shot from my pores and in moments I mapped everyone’s whereabouts and devised a crime so flawless that I surprised even myself.  It had to happen at that very moment or not at all.  I slid the box into my pocket, seamlessly.  I was a thief.  My ears buzzed with terror of this thing burning hot in my jeans pocket.  I made a clean getaway.

There the box sat, in this place and that, never used and collecting years, twenty to be exact.  On January 5, 2012, the box made its grand entrance, its first major role since the teenage mall kiosk caper.  And so it begins…

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