The Box

Katrina sat on the edge of the bed, clad in nothing but a towel, still flushed from the hot water. The doors to her closet stood open, and there was literally nothing inside. Every Dior she owned, all her shoes, coats, everything was gone. The lingerie drawers on her dresser were open and they too were empty. She knew without looking that the rest of the chest was empty as well. She took a deep breath, trying to control her anger. The shower had washed off all the perspiration from an afternoon of tennis at the club and she’d been overjoyed. Finally she’d beat that bitch Betsy for the club championship. It had been an elusive goal for the last eight months. When she walked into the closet and found her loss she was livid. She screamed for Marie but the maid was nowhere to be found. She stomped around the room for a moment, nearly tripping over the huge box at the end of the bed. A card with Jack’s writing was taped to the top.

For my sweetheart, to help you live the future you’ve agreed to.

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