[ The paper bag is nondescript, the box an old candy tin emptied out. Inside is a round gold-foiled "coin," the kind she once gave to him at the end of their first real talk. It's identical, actually, so he must've snagged another from Sophie. This one's chocolate-free. Rather, a hard material's carved to fit inside so the shell holds its shape, the foil glued around it and a hole poked through the top.
It dangles from a silver ball chainā€”long enough for her to hang it on her rear view mirror, or wherever she feels like.
He hasn't signed his name, but. It's probably not hard to guess. And the box smells faintly of cigar smoke. ]
xmas
It dangles from a silver ball chainā€”long enough for her to hang it on her rear view mirror, or wherever she feels like.
He hasn't signed his name, but. It's probably not hard to guess. And the box smells faintly of cigar smoke. ]