Enclosed in an ephemeral veneer of vibrant maraschino, the box waits. Wrapped, wistful whispers encircle unseen contents of grave importance—yet none dare venture the secrets they hide within.
Reflect, reflect upon these mislaid footprints, scattered across infinite grains. Each imprint a moment, a choice, unsoiled paths golden in the sunlight wheel.
Sometimes the echo returns, reverberating off alleyways you didn't traverse.