The Box

The Box by Tiffany Greenfield

I thought the spark had died when he left town.  I didn’t expect him to return and when he finally did, I glanced but I refused to look.  When he came calling, who was I to turn him away.  He was different but still the same.  He might as well have thrown kerosene on the fire when he brushed my hand.  Until that moment I didn’t realize I had packed all his love away in a tiny little box.  He knew he couldn’t walk away, I knew I couldn’t say no.  Papa gave his blessing and the fire burned once again.


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