“Choose.” Karen said, as she placed a small wooden box and a photograph down in the center of our brand new coffee table.
Her gaze affixed to mine and I was in awe of it’s intensity. I could not look away, though I wanted desperately to. Staring into my beloved’s eyes and seeing the hurt and bitter disappointment that lived in them, and understanding that I put it there was the last thing I wanted to do. I didn’t need to look down to know what one of the options was for my consideration, the one causing the majority of that pain. A small and simple wooden box that should be tucked safe inside an old shoebox at the bottom of my closet, beneath a pile of folded sweaters waiting for the chilly winter weather to return.
