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From: Souvie <souvie@mindspring.com>
Reply-To: Souvie <souvie@mindspring.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "Out of the Box" (flash, MF, no-sex) by Souvie
Lines: 78
Date: Sun, 01 Oct 2006 20:10:03 -0400
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<1st attachment, "outofthebox.txt" begin>

"Out of the Box" 
by Souvie
copyright September 2006

Author's Note: Heavily influenced by Desdmona's "Moon Ghosts and
Memory Boxes." Written in a Creative Writing class my last semester
of college. 

Expertly tweaked by Denny.


* * * * * * * * *

I started "the box" when Stephen Miller dumped me in ninth grade. I
stormed through my room gathering up everything he'd ever given me.
I'd planned on burning the whole lot of it: cards, letters, pictures,
even the cheap dime-store necklace he'd won at last fall's carnival.
At the last minute, something stopped me. I put aside the necklace
and the one love poem he'd written and tossed the rest in the trash
compactor. I rummaged in my closet and found the old plain, brown
hatbox Ninny had passed down to me a couple of Christmases before.
Sitting in the middle of my bedroom floor, I decorated the box with
bits of wrapping paper, glitter and anything else that struck my
fancy. When I'd finished, I put the necklace and poem inside and
shoved the box under my bed.

All throughout the rest of high school the box became something of a
ritual. My boyfriend - whoever it might be at the time - and I would
break up and I would place something in the box. Sometimes it was a
photo, or a love letter; other times it was a corsage or a piece of
jewelry. And every so often, when I felt like I'd never find my "Mr.
Right," I'd take out the box and sift through the memories. Sitting
cross-legged on the bed, the moon peeking in through the blinds, I'd
trace over the pictures and re-read the letters, then go to sleep,
the ghosts of boyfriends-past keeping a silent vigil.

The box accompanied me to college, where it continued its faithful
service. Halfway through college I met Jason. Even though we were
complete opposites, we hit it off and continued dating long past
graduation.

One evening, shortly after we were married, I was going through some
boxes, getting rid of most of my old stuff. The items I wanted to
keep would go into storage out in the garage.

I pulled out the old box - "the" box. Running my hands along its
worn surface, I was drawn in to the myriad of memories it held.

The spell was broken when Jason asked, "What's that?"

"This?" I held it up, trying to see it from his perspective. "Just a
collection of sorts." I walked to the corner of the room where the
big trashcan was, the one we'd drug in from outside.

"You're throwing it away?"

"Yeah," I answered, slowly nodding. As I let it go, I watched the
box fall, hitting the bottom of the can with a solid "thunk."

"Why?"

I walked over and sat in his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck
and resting my head on his shoulder. "Because I don't need it
anymore," I answered with a smile. 

<1st attachment end>


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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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