I walked in on more than one occasion, discovered him gazing off into the distance, unaware of anything around him. But that early fall evening when I found him sitting, staring at something in his hands, it was different. Scared, startled, or caught with something he shouldn’t have had, I’m not sure.
He shoved it aside, as if a piece of clutter on his desk. Setting his hand over it, he slid the tiny box into the drawer. Subtle, it was still hard to miss. And even if I had, his face…his face…lost? Afraid? No, I would have to say anguish. And that, he couldn’t shove aside…. or tuck into a drawer.
Nor could I erase the flash of gold that I glimpsed, inside the small, blue, velvet box.
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