The man nodded and said “Good mornin’ ma’am”, then proceeded to take off with too much vigour for a postman. She turned around and walked back inside. She stopped in the hall and looked at herself in the wall mirror. She couldn’t fight the feeling of fear tightening her chest; whatever was in that box, it was meant for her innocent eyes only, and she was sure it wasn’t an early birthday present.
Drifting distractedly back to her lounge room, she played with the frayed end of the string. She sat down too quickly, losing her balance and collapsing into the chair. Flustered, she put the box on her lap and slowly pulled on the string. It unravelled and slipped between her knees onto the floor. Tentatively, she slipped her finger under the tape holding the package together and let the paper unfold. Inside was an ornamental wooden box, with a small brass latch holding it closed. Slowly, she opened the small latch and lifted the lacquered lid.