A/N: Hi. I don't know where I'm going with this, but it'll be good. Here's the intro.
I shouldn't. I really shouldn't. I know I shouldn't.
But I do.
I walk over to my closet and throw the door open. I dig through a pile of clothes and shoes until I find it.
The box.
It's just a shoebox. I guess that's really all it is. I've wrapped it in plain white wrapping paper that I've written all over. Words like stop and no and don't. I wrapped the box with the hope that maybe somewhere along the lines of tearing it open, I'd realize that it's a bad idea to open it and I'd just walk away. That's not happening.
See, this isn't just any ordinary box of junk. When Austin and I broke up after three years, this is where I put all of the things that reminded me of him. So I wouldn't have to look at them every day. Or ever. But right now I want to look at everything. I want to relive every precious moment I spent with him. Because the breakup was two months ago, and the initial shock and freedom is wearing off. Now I'm just lonely. And I need to take a second to breathe and remember what it's like to be loved.
I finish off the paper. I hold my breath as I lift the lid off the box. Immediately I'm inundated with memories. Different objects catch my eye and flash images into my mind. I'm starting to feel. I know I'm breaking down. The floodgates are opening, and all the memories I've been pushing aside rush back. I'm remembering Austin as a person, as a whole. As deep brown eyes and messy blonde hair and tanned skin. As a cute tenor and a sweet boyfriend. As whispers and hair flips and crooked smiles. I shouldn't be doing this, but I am. I'm remembering him.
I stare into the box blankly for just a moment. I don't really know where to start, so I start at the beginning and sort through the items. I take one out, and the memories come back, all as clear as day.
