In his car, Monroe breathed a sigh of relief. He fingered the box of mints. It was empty of course. He knew that very well.
What mattered was the information inside.
All the little things that he felt were in there.
He recalled what his counselor had said when he hopped onto the weider path a decade ago. "This will be how you control you feelings. Write it down and close the book. You just closed off your temptations and urges. Remember that you have control." If only it was so easy.
Monroe cracked open the top. Unlike the others who wrote in diaries or fantasy blogs, he kept all his feelings inside a little box. One he kept on his person at all times.
Nick. He could smell the scent on a few of the papers. How could he not have expected Nick to investigate? The man was a detective after all.
A small part of him was glad that Nick thought the box was Rosalee's. An even larger part was disappointed. Disappointed that Nick didn't recognize his handwriting. Not that he would since they always met face to face or texted, but it would be nice to know the detective was smart enough to pick up on it.
Monroe glanced at the paper scattered on his dash. There was one that wasn't a sticky note.
Monroe immediately knew the hand writing. Large loops but stock straight. Open hearted but having a strong moral code. Nick.
Take the chance.
Outside his house, Monroe stood in from of the mail box. He pulled out a trowel and started digging.
After all of five minutes he gave up and used his hands.
When the hole was finally deep enough, he dropped the mint box in. It wasn't good for the environment to bury plastic, but he was sure the counselor would have justified it with symbolic meaning or some pseudo-scientific-psychological analysis.
He opened a new box and emptied the contents in the hole. Then, he covered it with earth.
"Goodbye."
Wall of Disclaimers is up.
Can you guess the mint brand I based this off of?
Next chapter is the last one.