“Come, put ingenuity into this box.”

“Come, put ingenuity into this box.” He gasped for he was doubtful. “Doubt not⸺for what doubts you must have of thy own feeblish nature.” She seemed to have struck a nerve. Initially wary of the obtuse object she had brought in to the extent of shying away from its sight, confronted with truths about himself he had forgotten how to accept, he seemed to ponder. “Ponder thy life to its bound but you cannot pretend not to feel the might which lurks herein.” Indeed, he had felt something. And she was right in that he had not felt frailty confined. He waged a peep.

She lifted the box slightly, leaving one edge resting on the ground. What once were sporadic glimmers he could barely make out became a beacon of white he stared down. Bedazzled by a future he told himself to see, his mind numbed. “Let loose,” she calmly whispered. Enamoured, he complied and fused in thought with what she brought.