the thought of packages only
I thought of boxes. Their tale as no tale. My hands, as containers. They push and shove until everything fits into them, then another, and another. Someone finds/receives an unexpected package. Candies, fruit, boxes tiered largest to smallest, bow tied. It arrives. At that moment, no one wants more than this.
the story as a package
A nursing attendant caring for an old woman lusted after a diamond ring the woman kept in a small burgundy ring box in her jewelry chest. The attendant found the ring box one day while cleaning. When the old woman napped, the attendant would take the ring out and look at it. She would try it on, polish it against her cardigan, make it sparkle in the sun that peeked into the room through the blind slats. One day the attendant made a decision. She removed the ring from the box and hid it in a pocket of one the old woman's dresses that hung in her closet. This way, she reasoned, if the old woman ever asked for it, she could retrieve it. She could show her that it was still there. But, if someone came… Read more »