The Afternoon of the Blue Box

It was a warm afternoon in August of 2005. The clock on the wall showed it was just past two. The sun was bright, and the street was full of cars and the shouts of children playing. My younger sister had two classmates over. My aunt was chatting with visitors on the front steps, and my uncle was in the kitchen with a repairman fixing the sink. My older sister was away at the park with her friends.

I was supposed to be cleaning out the old books stacked in a crate in my room. I was sitting on the floor, sorting through them. My younger sister kept running in to grab games from the shelf in the corner, and I felt myself growing impatient. My aunt and I had disagreed earlier, and I wanted to be left alone.

My aunt came into the room with one of her guests to look at the new curtains she had hung. I frowned and looked down at the book in my hands, not wanting to talk to anyone.