A Rainy Day...
I had seen the box often. When we visited, it would be in the den, on the desk, near the fire. Or, when we visited, it would be on the kitchen table, slightly ajar, forgotten, until a meal would require it to leave. Or, when we visited, it would be in the sunroom, on the end table, near the window, forgotten once again, until a visitor would sit too near. Then, it would leave again.
