The Box

The Box

The boy, no more than eight, waited his turn. The expression on his face was one of scholarly indifference –a blank screen where his desires were frozen deep into the projector. A box in his hands, cardboard, anonymous, wrapped, silent. A hush went over the children as the boy made his way to the front of the barren classroom. They gathered around the boy, still no words, but silence functioning like verbs never could, never would. The haggard, surly teacher motioned with a skeletal paw and the boy opened the box with his little hands, gingerly gaining momentum as the ribbons unfurled and the box began to take form. Murmurs escaped little lips as the anticipation grew and filled the room like an invisible fog, clouding their senses and dissipating emotions. Broken sneakers and unkempt collars were witnesses to the package underneath, as frail bodies and undeveloped minds wrapped their way around to gain a preferable vantage point. The bell rang. The children exited in a thoroughly controlled manner and left the boy with an unopened box. Broken sneakers and unkempt collars made their way out the door and into his dreams…