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He had given her an unexpected gift. A beautiful treasure box, intricate and fragile, strong and brilliantly fiery. The contents were the real gift. She cherished each and every single one of them.

From time to time she’d open the box and if she became tearful she would turn away from it so as not to spill her tears inside. She didn’t want any tears in there. Fearing they would spoil their treasure.

On leaving he didn’t leave her the box or the gifts inside it. Even the memories were taken away and destroyed. She now wonders if it was all real. Since every memory is now questionable, was the treasure just a fantasy?