It all started with a small, unassuming box on a high shelf tucked away in the far corner of our walk-in closet. I spotted it just as Sam and I had finished putting away the Christmas decorations.
“Sam?” I called out, pointing up. “What’s that?”
He glanced up briefly, standing on his toes to look. “Oh, probably just some old junk. I’ll get it later, Clara.”
“Later?” I teased. “You’re 6’2, and I’m barely 5’5. It’s now or never.”
With a shrug, Sam grabbed the box and gave it to me without looking. Then his phone buzzed.
